


Time of Night

by PrincessMarco



Series: SNK Hogwarts AU [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Angst, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, I'll make you suffer first sorry, M/M, Slow Build, Smut is probably going to happen in later chapters, Social Anxiety
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2015-04-08
Packaged: 2018-03-04 04:14:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 31,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2920538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessMarco/pseuds/PrincessMarco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>6th year, Jean Kirstein, is attending his first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. After transferring from  Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, Jean can't help but feel overwhelmingly lonely, until he meets Marco, that is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've created an 8Track for the fic for your enjoyment! It's a collection of songs I often listen to that help me write this fic, as well as some that I think would be on Jean's iPod.
> 
> You can find it here: http://8tracks.com/princessmarco/time-of-night
> 
> And thanks for reading!

It never rained like this back at home, or at least not this early into fall anyway. The ‘drizzle’ is relentless on my back, and my hoodie is already becoming damp, much to my irritation. My mother is chirping at me about how wonderful this experience is going to be for me, that I’ll get to meet new people and make lots of friends. All of that typical, cliché, bullshit that parents give you when they throw you into something they know, full well, that you are going to hate. I am currently bent over the open trunk of my moms Sedan, trying to unload my obnoxiously heavy trunk here at Cross-King-Whatever-It-Is Station, my messenger bag is slung over my shoulder that conveniently keeps slipping and getting in the way, all the while my mother watches from under her umbrella.

We just moved here from Lyon, France, well not _just just,_ I’ve lived here in London since the end of June. We moved into a flat in Westminster, the view is nice at night, but it still doesn’t have the welcoming feel like Lyon did. I mean sure, they have that palace thing and that giant clock, but the Festival of Lights will always trump those. We moved because my mother took up a job at the Ministry of Magic as the head of the Improper Use of Magic Department. She’s worked with them before when cases have spanned across the Channel, and I’ve been here before. When I was little, she would bring me with her on her business trips and call them vacations. I liked them of course, it was always new and there was always something to do, but this is different. This is now apparently home and not a vacation. But God do I wish it was.

My mom at least has the decency to bring me a trolly, and as I deposit my things on the squeaky slab of metal on wheels, my glare just radiates. She continues on about how nice things will be, how the headmaster is kind and I shouldn’t have any trouble, how they have this unique set up of houses and that I can play quidditch. As I wheel my way through the crowded station, my mother babbles in French as she trots at my heel. Water is dripping from my bangs, and I can feel where the rain has soaked though my hoodie near the small of my backand I only scowl harder, like there is some major wrinkle production happening right now. I’m pretty sure everyone around me thinks I look like I’m either about to kill someone, or that I’m constipated; I’ll take the former.

“How do we get to the platform again?” I growl through gritted teeth. I have to remind myself to prefer English, even when just speaking to my mom. I’ve been able to speak it since I was little, but I never really used it much back at home, and frankly I don’t want to risk embarrassing myself more than I probably will when I ask for directions in a language other students aren’t going to understand; and thankfully my accent has thinned over the summer, I’ve had enough strangers ask me how to say something in French. At this point I just call them ‘Leprechaun Taint’ and tell them it means ‘Lovely weather’.

I see her point at a wall that divides platforms nine and ten and stare. “Just gotta run through there” she says encouragingly, giving my shoulder a light pat. Apparently I’m about to run through a wall. This is just wonderful, my clothes are soaked, I’m freezing, the train is going to leave soon, and now I have to run through this hunk of brick and cement without anyone watching. My mother receives _that look,_ you know, the one that accurately portrays ‘you’re shitting me?’ She just smiles and nods, and with a huff, I try to act as casual as possible when walking toward a supposed-solid-object.

For some reason, they decided to make a brick wall the entrance. I’ll give whoever thought of that some credit for creativity, but I’ve never been more anxious about people discovering magic as I walk through a fucking wall with my mother following behind me. Maybe they’d think I’m a ghost, I’m okay with that actually. I’d be the sickest ghost to ever not-live. The platform, dubbed nine and three quarters is loud and bustling, everything that makes my social anxiety scream. Students are darting in and out of a giant ass, red train (that actually looks cool, I’ll admit) that decided to make today the day I go deaf with its warning whistle. I have five minutes to get my stuff and my butt on that thing, and I don’t think my mother will be helping. “I’ll put my stuff up, stay right here, I’ll be back in a minute” I say over my shoulder glancing at my mom who seems mesmerized by this secret platform.

Shouldering my way through the crowd of people, I manage to somehow heave my trunk through one of the doors of a carriage close to the train. The small walkway is filled with shrieks and laughter, to my left is a compartment filled with some students that look to be my age and a bit more official. I hear the word “prefects” spoken by some blond beef cake during a short lull in noise before continuing on, I don’t exactly want to risk interacting with He-Man. I miss, and appreciate more that I ever have in my life, suitcases with wheels as I drag my things, searching for a compartment that’s empty. Near the end, one gleaming beckon of vacancy waits for me to occupy it and I hurl myself through the open door. I quickly (well, as quick as I can with my poor excuse for muscles) shove my stuff up on the racks above the seats and drop my messenger bag on the bench next to the window and take a breath before going back out into the chaos.

Out in the walkway, I notice the door to Hulk’s compartment slide open. Blond Coconut Head, and Blessed-By-Aphrodite step out, saying something about having to find an Eren, whoever the hell that is, and finally is some dude with freckles who decides to acknowledge my existence, and give me this saintly smile and wave. I try to return the smile the best I can but I’m fairly certain that it just looks like I'm having some sever pain.

I’m back out on the platform with a minute to spare, and scan through through the thinning crowd of parents for my mother. I catch her looking for me and rush to her, knowing my last bit of home is about to leave as soon as I get back on that train. I hug her tight, startling her, but I feel an arm wrap around me and another bring her fingers to cart through my sandy-blond hair. I know I’m going to miss the fuck out of this lady. “Be good and try to make some friends. Professor Hanji will meet you at the station and you’ll speak with Professor Smith before the welcoming ceremony, okay? I’ll send your broom with Pyro tonight with whatever you forgot so you’ll have it by morning” she says gently, cupping my face and bringing me down to place a kiss on my forehead. “I love you, I’ll miss you, and I’ll see you at Christmas, okay?” she says with a gentle smile. All I can do is nod before the whistle sounds again and she’s nudging me back towards the train. 

I nearly get slapped by a parent who waves energetically at their child, and I am the last go through the door before it is shut and locked behind me. The Rock has the cabin to himself now with sweaty and angry, a few down from them is Blessed-By-Aphrodite and Blond Coconut Head who have apparently found their Eren, some guy who looks awful pretentious and aggressive. As I pass the filled compartments and watch my peers laugh, joke, and talk about their summer break, I can’t help but feel depressed, knowing that what awaits me is an empty cabin and a lot of silence.

I, Jean Kirstein, feel more than I ever have in my entire life, completely and utterly alone.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! This will be my first ever multi-fanfic, so bear with me. I'm always open for comments and critiques; you can find me on tumblr: http://howlscastl3.tumblr.com/ and I'll track the tag fic: TofN  
> Thanks, and enjoy!


	2. Chapter 2

That is until I discover that my compartment has been invaded.

I’ve never been awful at making friends, it is possible, it just requires the proper circumstances. At Beauxbatons, I knew what I was getting into. My mother fully informed me of what things were going to be like and who to go to when I needed help; I didn't going in blind like I am now. I was comfortable in my environment and had no reason to be anxious. I knew my peers, had close friends, could trust my teachers, but I know nothing about these intruders.

I’m fairly certain I’m internally sobbing. I stand there in the isle a few feet from the compartment, contemplating my options as my fists bunch the fabric on the inside of the pocked on my hoodie. I could go in there, grab my things without a word and leave. Or I could tell them I’ve been invited to go sit someone else, but then what if I don’t find an empty cabin? I would have to go right back here with my tail between my legs with some excuse. I could just go in and introduce myself, nows a better time than ever too make some friends I suppose. But then again, what if they’re weird, like hella weird? What if they hate me, or ask why I’m there? Oh God, people are probably going to start staring soon if I don’t move. A shriek stuns me from my thoughts and I take the few steps towards the door, sliding it as gently as possible for how rigid I must be.

I am met with weird, of course I am, why would I expect anything less? There’s some bald guy, apparently Connie, on the floor fishing out something from under the bench. The girl perched on the seat diagonal from mine is scolding a cat and failing to hide her laugh. And finally, fucking freckles is back in the seat next to mine, telling the girl, Sasha, to be more careful about what ever just happened here. He turns to me and I’m just frozen in the doorway, no idea if I should run or enter.

“Uh, hi, sorry about these two. I hope you don’t mind us sharing your compartment, the others were a bit full” he tells me, almost bashfully if I’m hearing it right.

I shrug as cooly as I can, dodging Connie as I make my way to my seat. “It’s alright, just, what happened?” I ask, eyeing freckles.

“Oh, Sasha’s cat tried to eat Connie’s toad again. Ah, i’m Marco Bodt by the way, and this is Sasha Braus and Connie Springer” he motions to the respective people.

Marco. He’s dressed in a black v-neck sweater, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, and dark blue jeans. He’s kicked off his white Chuck Taylor’s and pushed them under the bench. There’s a myriad of freckles across his nose, his skin is tanned, more than I would expect for how little sun England seems to receive, and this loser still parts his hair down the middle. But for dressing so casual, I strangely feel self conscious of the clothes I’m sporting. This morning I just threw on an old red hoodie, grass stained skinny jeans, and my pair of black converse. And he smiles again, and for some reason I return it. “Jean Kirstein” I offer.

Connie, who looks even less presentable than I, smacks his head on the bench as he crawls out, toad in hand. My nose scrunches as that at he coo’s at ‘Kumquat’. “Fuck you Potato” he growls. Wow, that was rude. He gently places the toad back in his cage and sets him up on the rack above him, finally sitting down in his seat with an exhausted sigh.

The sandy cat growls from its spot under Sasha’s arm, “Oh come on Connie, you know ‘Tate would do that. I don’t know why you thought it would be a good idea to let your frog out.” Her voice holds no apology as she pets the cat that now purrs happily.

“I would’ve thought you had taught him better by now” Connie spat before sinking down into the cushion of his seat.

Marco nudges my elbow gently, noticing my confusion. “Potato is Sasha’s cat. He’ll eat practically anything-“

“Like son, like mother!” Sasha chirps. She's met with chuckles from the other two, but I’m still lost in what is what.

“Kumquat is Connie’s toad, the poor thing has faced death a couple times now at the paws of ‘Tate.” Marco tells me, he’s grinning at me reassuringly, as if he’s watching to make sure I’m connecting the dots. “Do you have and pets?” Freckles inquires as a near-silent mewl comes from under his end of the bench. He pulls out a wicker crate, unsnapping the latch and pulling out a ball of black fur. “This is Jinx, by the way. He isn’t nearly as much trouble as ‘Tate, he just likes to be where the action is.” Jinx settles between us, and I reach out, letting him sniff my hand before petting his head gently.

“Not really, my mom and I have a fish and thats about it. Well, we did have a cat but she passed a couple years ago. Since then we never really thought about getting another cat.” I respond, smiling faintly at the purring under my fingers. I suddenly miss having pets.

“I’m sorry” Marco tells me sincerely, “I couldn’t imaging losing Ji, he’s great company when you’re feeling down.”

He watches me intently before Sasha breaks the peace, “So Jean, which house are you in? I don’t remember ever seeing you around.” Oh yeah, that thing.

“Um, I’m not in one yet. I just transferred from Beauxbatons, i’m going into my 6th year.”

Connie suddenly decides to join in, asking me “Isn’t it that fancy French school in the mountains?”

“Yeah, the Pyrenees mountains. We didn’t exactly have this whole house thing so could you explain-“ And at that exact moment, Sasha decided to be that person.

“WAIT! So you’re from France!? Can you say something in french?” she asks eagerly, and I catch a glimpse of the apologetic look Marco is giving me.

I huff out “Bien sûr je ne peux pas, ce ne est pas comme je ai grandi là-bas ou quoi que ce soit” as I sink lower into my seat.  
“So what does that mean?” Sasha continues excitedly, scooting near the edge of her seat.

“It means ‘Of course I can’t, isn’t like I grew up there or anything’” I mutter, shoving my my free hand into my hoodie pocket and petting Jinx a little more aggressively, he doesn’t seem to mind.

“Wow, someone has their sassy pants on today” Connie injects before Marco rescues me.

“Hogwarts has four houses: Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Slytherin, and Hufflepuff. We are all in Hufflepuff-“

“The best house there is!” Sasha offers before Marco continues,

“-we are known for being patient, loyal, kind and dedicated. Gryffindor’s are typically brave, daring, and courageous. Ravenclaw’s are wise, creative, and quick witted. And Slytherin’s are cunning, clever, and ambitious. You’re sorted into the house that best suits you.” I nod in affirmation, going over the list of where I might be placed, think of the qualities and trying to match them to my own.

Is there a house for sarcastic losers who are terrified of human interaction and large crowds of people? I’m not patient, brave, wise, or cunning. What if there isn’t a house for me? What if I am unsortable? Marco quickly brings me out of my mental barrage of questions, i’m not sure if he notices it in my expression or just coincidental, but he pipes up “I gotta go meet with the other prefects and the heads, I’ll be back in a bit, okay? Sash, Connie, please don’t kill Jean. That would be really hard for me to explain to professor Smith” he says with a grin, slipping on his shoes and shuffling out the compartment with a wave.

“Prefect?” I ask, turning back to the two in front of me as Jinx decides to crawl up onto my lap.

“They’re kinda like the student police but in a less violent way” Connie says, digging through his bag for something. Pulling out a deck of cards, he continues, “there are two from each house from years five, six, and seven, a guy and a girl for each. Marco is the male prefect for Hufflepuff” he adds, shuffling the cards.

“Who are the rest?” I inquire.

“Well, for the 6th year prefects, it’s Marco and Mina for Hufflepuff, Historia and Armin for Ravenclaw, Bertolt and Ymir for Slytherin, Franz and Mikasa for Gryffindor, and Head boy and girl are Hannah from Gryffindor and Marco’s boyfriend, Thomas, from Ravenclaw.”

Whoa ho ho. Hold up. Break time. What.

“Boyfriend?” I ask hesitantly as Connie and Sasha start a game of Go Fish.

“Yeah, dude’s full homo. Not even half or two percent” Sasha chirps before asking slowly “I mean, that isn’t a problem, right?” I feel like Sasha is almost trying to protect him. I wonder what would happen if I say no, maybe she would go mother bear on me. I can feel Connie glancing at me anxiously, waiting for me to be a fuckboy.

“No, why would it be?” I ask casually and I can see their tension leave in relief. They go about their game, and I sit there, petting an attention whore of a cat. I never really considered relationships a thing when I found out I’d be going to Hogwarts. I mean they happened at Beauxbatons, and I’ve dated before, but my last relationship was in my 3rd year with some girl I shared Charms with and it lasted about three weeks. I’ve had crushes come and go, but I’ve never really been confident in being able to hold down a relationship; I feel like I would be paranoid about everything, that I would be too clinging and constantly worry that i’m doing something wrong or fucking someone over.

Maybe this year could change that, I mean, this group of dorks don’t seem so bad, I wouldn’t go calling them my friends yet, but I have a feeling they’ll be something.

I listen to Connie and Sasha banter through another game of Go Fish before Jinx is off my lap and skittering towards the door. Marco is back outside with some guy with blond hair and sideburns that make me cringe. That must be Thomas because Marco pecks his cheek before sliding back into the compartment.

“Thomas says hello” He says, scooping up Ji to cradle in his arms before cooing at the cat “Did you keep Jean company? Oh, Jean, that’s Thomas, my-“

“Already informed him Marco” Sasha mutters from behind her cards as she stares intensely at Connie.

“Oh..” I can hear the hesitation in his voice as he sits back down, he looks at me as if he’s waiting for my judgment.

“I’m fine with it, don’t worry. I’ve already been approved my Sasha and Connie.” I offer him a smile as he releases Jinx back onto the seat between us.

“True, I don’t detect any fuckboy on him” Connie reassures before requesting Sasha’s three’s.

Things become significantly less tense, Marco and I join in on their card game for a few rounds before the trolley lady makes her rounds. Connie and Sasha nearly buy her out while Marco and I share a stack of Cauldron cakes. Theres a hum of chatter and laughter as we eat and watch the dynamic duo dare each other to eat certain Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. I join in for one but immediately end that excursion when the bean I am handed tastes like Chilli Powder. Marco is shrieking with laughter along with the other two as I struggle to find my water bottle in the bottom of my messenger bag, retching at the burning in my throat. He’s adamantly refusing to participate after i’ve calmed that fire and Connie and Sash decided to put the rest away for later and manage in doze off in a heap on their bench.

“Are they a thing?” I ask Marco curiously as I kick off my shoes and bring my legs up to cross in front of me.

“Not yet, but I hope to God they are soon, this is getting a bit ridiculous” he says with a faint chuckle. He turns to face me, stretching his legs across the bench.

“Why’d you transfer? If you don’t mind me asking.” I shake my head, digging my laptop out of my messenger bag and setting it down on my lap.  
“My mom took up a job at the Ministry. She said it would be good for us to get away from Lyon, i’m just afraid of her getting lonely without me there. Hey, what’s the Wifi password?” I add, lifting the screen to log in.

Marco hums in response before giving my thigh a poke with his toe. “You do realize that won’t be of any use right? We’re still pretty traditional in the sense of no technology.” The groan that escapes me must seem like i’m in serious pain. Because I am in serious pain with this revelation.

“You’re kidding me. Not even on the train? I mean, I didn’t expect there to be Wifi or anything at the School, but the train? Really?” My head his the back of the seat and he giggles, sitting up to scoot closer to me.

“It sucks, I know. My mom’s muggle born so she still integrates a fair amount of non-magical stuff into my family. When I first realized I’d be without Sims for nearly a year, I cried, but you’ll get used to it” he offers.

We sit and play Cut the Rope ’til my battery dies, and I have to kiss it goodbye until Christmas. We talk about our families and I learn he’s got a little sister, Madeline, who’ll be a first year next year. Apparently she looks just like him and he estimates that she’ll be a Ravenclaw, though Slytherin is a possibility. His mother is a healer at St. Mungo’s and she’s vibrant, quick witted, and a great cook. His father, a halfblood, works for the Daily Prophet and is a man of few words but many smiles. I tell him about my mom and her kind, gentle personality. How she and my grandmother were the only wizarding persons on her side of the family and grew up in a relatively muggle household. I tell him about our home back in Lyon and learn he has a house next to the water in Whitstable.

I tell him about my love for quidditch and he urges me to try out for the team. “I personally cannot fly to save my life. On my first day of classes ever, I had a flying lesson, and was sobbing within seconds of being in the air. I very much prefer being on the ground” he laughs.

“You’re weird, flying is glorious. It’s so freeing, all you need it the right broom” I nudge his shoulder as he shakes his head.

“If you can get me on a broom and in the air for more than ten seconds, you can revel in the thought of knowing you’ve broken my fear of heights” he tells me.

“Sounds like a challenge, Bodt. I’ll take it.”

— — —

Connie and Sasha eventually stir from their nap, just as the sky grows dark. “We’re nearly there you two, better get dress” he chips at them before turning back to me. “For the welcoming ceremony we wear our robes. You can just throw them on over your regular clothes, there’s really no need on putting on the entire uniform.” We dig through our trunks, retrieving the desired attire and I am once again self conscious of my clothing. Marco, Sasha, and Connie all have robes that correspond with their house: Black with yellow accents and a patch on the chest of…a badger? That’s actually kind of cool. Meanwhile, i’m adorned in plain black robes with a patch of the schools crest. I’m feeling really out of the loop as I slip my shoes on, listening to the three talk about their house mates and who they’re dreading and excited to see again.

In the distance I can see a brightly lit train station, workers dressed in crimsoned rushing about, getting ready to unload the students. Beyond that is a dark castle dotted with yellow light. I turn to sling my messenger bag over my shoulder before Marco stops me, “Just leave your things here Jean, they’ll be brought up for you.” He smiles at my skeptical stare, I shrug then turn back to the window as we roll up into the station. The castle is immense now, the bright windows reflecting on the lake. I didn’t think it’d look so magnificent. The train lurches and I remember my instructions to meet Professor Hanji, but I have no idea who I’m supposed to be looking for.

“Hey, uh, Marco? Could you point me to Professor Hanji? I’m supposed to meet them before the ceremony.”

“Sure” he says, holding open to door of the compartment door, “might wanna be quick, thing’s are going to start getting really crowded.” That sets me in motion, I’m not about to have this rather chipper mood i’m in be squashed by a massive group of people.

We rush down the isle towards the front of the train, Marco steers me to a door on my right and I’m the first out on the platform. Success. “I gotta stay here and do my prefectural duties, but you’ll find Hanji- well right there exactly” he waves to someone over my shoulder, and I turn to meet the opposite of me. They’re radiating excitement as they stride over to where Marco and I stand, now being joined by others.

“Jean Kirstein, right?” they ask holding out a hand.

“Uh, yeah. Professor Hanji?” I ask taking the hand hesitantly.

“Correct! Now lets hurry and get you on that carriage, we haven’t much time to waste.” I’m being dragged off by my wrist, head whipping back to watch Marco.

He gives me an encouraging smile and a thumbs up, “You’ll be fine! I’ll see you later okay?” he shouts before flinching at a harsh yell from near the end of the station. I can barely catch a glimpse, but there’s some short, angry looking man with black hair, wielding a lantern and calling for the first years. I smile to myself; I think I just made my first friend. See Jean, that wasn’t so hard, right? I watch my feet on the short walk to where the carriages must be, thinking through today’s event, most likely grinning like an idiot, before Hanji pauses and releases me. I look up and am met with something I didn’t need to see.

Before me are dozens of black, skeletal, winged horses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! This will be my first ever multi-fanfic, so bear with me. I'm always open for comments and critiques; you can find me on tumblr: http://howlscastl3.tumblr.com/ and I'll track the tag fic: TofN  
> Thanks, and enjoy!
> 
> 8Track for this fic: http://8tracks.com/princessmarco/time-of-night


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just really love agender Hanji and sarcastic asshole Jean/Eren broship.  
> The pronouns I use for Hanji are they/them so don't get them confused for multiple people!

The sounds of the station are muffled as I struggle to move from where I’m rooted. I have figuratively fallen into a lake of ice water as one of the creatures turns its head to watch me curiously with cloudy eyes. My breath becomes shallow and I clutch at the fabric over my chest in an effort to cease the shaking in my fingers. I think Hanji notices because I feel them nudge my shoulder gently, telling me something I don’t quite catch. I shuffle awkwardly towards the carriage as the horse decides I’m not nearly as interesting as it believed to be, and returns to its fidgeting under the harness. I clamber up the steps and move to sit as far away from the front as possible. I hear a cough come from across the carriage and look up to see a gentle smile. 

“They’re harmless, I promise. I watch after their herd, they’re really quite gentle” Hanji reassures me. Their smile is faint, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say it looks sympathetic. They also understand something I’m completely oblivious too. I jump as the carriage lurches into motion; all I know is that being met with something that looks as if it’s crawled straight from hell is not how I imagined starting my attendance at Hogwarts. I will never openly admit it, but I spook like a horse. The last time I watched a horror film, I vomited.

“Jean? You alright?” They ask, scooting closer to the edge of their seat. 

I give a small nod, noticing how pale my fingers are against my robes as they sit there, my mind willing them to stop trembling. “Yeah, just scared me a little” I offer, voice cracking as I try to regain my composure. 

“They’re Thestrals, a breed of winged horses.” They want to say more, I can tell, but for the time being I’m content with just knowing that they wont eat me. “So Jean, when we get to the castle, we’ll hurry you up to the head masters office, get your sorted, and then get you down to the Great Hall before the ceremony starts. Typically new students are sorted when they start their first year in front of the whole school, but we figured we’d save you from the awkward encounter of standing amongst a group of students that are six years younger than you in front of your peers” they say with a brighter smile. 

“Thank you” I breath. Just the thought of myself in a sea of kids being sorted before the entire school gives me anxiety. I would probably cry if I were honest with myself. I’m not very big on presenting to large groups of people, or small ones for that matter; and I don’t even know how this whole thing will go down. 

There’s a break in the trees, and above me I can see the castle loom into view. Down the slope I catch a glimpse of students crowding around a dock and the water ripple as boats are set in a line, preparing to be boarded. The black waters wash against a steep stretch of rocks on the far end of the lake; the reflection of the castle is beautiful. It’s windows perfectly framed with light and the waning moon finally making its appearance just above the highest peak. I wonder why I have to take a bumpy wagon ride with Lucifer’s pony and they get to go canoeing.

The view is soon taken when the path turns, taking us deeper through the maze of tall trees. The noise of the station is distant now as, I assume, we approach the school. “So, uh, is there anything I should be informed of before meeting the Headmaster?” I ask, fiddling with the hem of my robes.

Hanji gives me a soft laugh as they reach out pat my knee. I don’t flinch from the contact, but wonder what is so amusing. “You shouldn’t be afraid Jean, I can tell you that. Erwin is a kind man, just don’t be stupid and you’ll get through your years here just fine.” They settle back in their seat before continuing, “You’ll learn the basic rules at the welcoming ceremony, he’ll explain what the House Cup is, and your House’s quidditch captain is where to go to concerning information on trying out and game dates.”

“How did you know-“

“Your mother was very thorough when she wrote to us concerning your attendance." 

I feel a twinge of pain in my chest as I remember the day she told me we would be moving. It was just before for the Easter holiday of my fifth year and she had sent me an owl one evening, relaying how excited she was to be offered this position, how she promised to make our move and my transfer as smooth and as painless as possible. I had refused to return her letter and it wasn’t until I had returned for summer break did I finally speak to her. Even then, I was snappy and made myself available as little as possible, and she still made sure I even had the ability to play quidditch. Congratulations Jean Kirstein, you are a grade-a asshole. “Oh.” 

The forest around us thins as the castle blooms into full view, a pillar hosting a single winged boar on each side of the entrance. Up close I am dwarfed in its wake, the towers looming above us. The carriage creeks to a stop in front of a wide, open staircase of stone, torches ablaze to light the entrance. Magnificent wooden doors are ajar, a bald man stands next to the entry, glowering at the pathway. 

“Keith!” Hanji shouts enthusiastically as they scramble off the steps of the carriage and across the grass towards the stone staircase. “Are you ready for a new year?” They climb the stairs quickly, clapping the man on the shoulder, only to receive a half-hearted grunt. 

I clamber out onto the grass, trying to keep myself from tripping over these damn robes. Before taking to the steps I turn to give our valiant Satan-steed a meek wave, it simply snorts and turns back to staring off into space. My Cinderella impersonation is on point as I hoist the front of my robes up and climb to meet Hanji at the top. They’re babbling away about the lesson plan they’ve created for the first day, but that’s not nearly as interesting as what’s behind the doors.

The entrance hall is immaculate, a grand stair case rests in the middle with an arch on the ground floor on either side that lead downwards to what I suspect to be the basement and dungeons; they’re framed by towering stone walls that are decorated in moving pictures and four colossal hour glasses, each holding a different colored gem. The left wall holds a gaping arch with a large corridor that must lead to another location. The right wall holds gilded doors that open up to what looks to be the dining hall. I step further into the castle, stifling a yelp at the sight of one of the suits of armor on either side of me. 

“It’s magnificent, ain’t it?” Hanji chirps from behind me. I offer a nod before they take my shoulder, gentler this time (thank the lord), and lead me across the entrance hall towards the grand stair case. A few of the subjects in the moving paintings wave to me, a particular little girl squealing to her mother ‘It’s the Beauxbatons boy’ before be hushed into a quiet giggle. The first floor branches off into several other corridors, to my left I catch a brightly lit hall behind an archway, the sound of stone scraping echoes from its direction. “You’ll get to explore later, come now” they tell me, nudging me to my right.

The hall is littered with tapestries and coats of arms on the wall to my left, tall windows on the opposite. At the end of the hall I can see a cavity in the wall that holds the statue of a winged gargoyle before it branches off into an adjacent hall to the left. “So where’s the Headmaster’s office, Professor?” I ask, eyeing them curiously. There isn’t a door around and I can hear the distant shout of students as they pull up to the front of the school.

“Just through there, we’ll try to make it quick so you can go settle in with your peers” they tell me with a reassuring pat on my shoulder, nodding towards the statue. Hanji is kind, when they’re not being overly excitable, and I can appreciate that. If the rest of the teachers are similar, I think I just may make it out alive. They step into the hollowed section of the wall, waving for me to join them before patting at the gargoyle’s arm, “Ginger Newt, now up you go!”

The stone creaks and shifts beneath us and suddenly the floor is turning slowly, climbing higher up the wall, its like a wizard’s version of an elevator. I cling to one of the wings that wrap above our heads, cringing at the sound of grinding rock. The floor above us opens up to reveal a single wooden door; the floors level and we slow to a halt. Hanji steps forward, knocking out a cheery pattern before opening the door wide enough to poke their head through. “Jean has arrived.” They open the door, motioning me to follow. I step quickly to walk at their heal as I’m led into the headmaster’s office. 

The room is wide, open, and adorns a vaulted ceiling. There are tables covered in organized chaos of god-knows-what, bookshelves on the wall that are filled to the brim, and a large desk at the back of the office that sits before a lofty stained glass window. Erwin Smith grins up from his seat behind his desk, he beckons us forward before folding his hands neatly in front of him. The man posses soft blond hair, blue eyes, and some fierce eyebrows. He’s dressed in a simple dark blue suit, white collared shirt, and this ridiculous black bolo tie. 

“Welcome to Hogwarts, Jean. Please, have a seat and we can begin” he says cooly, motioning to the seat at the front of his desk.

Hanji skitters off to one of the cabinets behind him to retrieve something as I sit down hesitantly in the plush chair. “It’s nice to meet you, sir” I say, glancing over his shoulder to watch Hanji before my attention is brought back to Professor Smith.

“Alright, so your mother has pretty much got everything covered. We’ve got your transcript, medical information, she’s signed off on allowing you to join our trips to Hogsmeade, and we’ve received your O.W.L.s. score from the ministry-“

I let a groan slip at that, remembering painfully how I was required to take the O.W.L.s. with the sixth years and only learned that I would be taking them a couple months before it had happened. When my mother had contacted Erwin about my transfer, he informed her that the O.W.L.s. were take in their fifth year and were required to move on to the sixth year. I, luckily enough, got a lot of help. I think the teachers took pity on me.

“Yeah” Erwin chuckles flipping closed a manila folder, “I apologize for that. Most of the classes we offer require those scores to influence where you’re placed. Without them, you would have been stuck into classes blindly; but thankfully for you, your scores turned out just fine, wonderful even.”

I poke the toe of my shoe at a wrinkle in the intricate rug, muttering a shy ‘thank you’ before whipping my head up at the sound of Hanji’s excited tone.

“Okay! So now that that’s taken care of, can I do the honors, Erwin?” they ask, holding up a ratty looking hat. 

Erwin lets out a sigh before nodding, a patient smile plastered on his lips. “I suppose you may.”

Hanji scurries around the desk to stand behind me, holding up the ancient wizard hat above my head. “Alright Jean, this is the sorting hat. All one has to do to discover which house they belong in, is place the hat on their head and then the sorting hat will tell us where you belong! Are you ready to learn your fate?” 

“I-I guess” I stutter before the hat is plopped onto my head, the musky fabric falling over my eyes. I hear a faint cough that is far too close to my ear before I yelp.

_“You’re a difficult one.”_

I am a thousand percent positive the hat has just spoken to me. I mean yeah, there aren’t a lot of surprising things in the wizarding world, but I did not expect to be sorted by a talking fucking hat.

_“You’re cunning an clever, I can tell you that. Slytherin would be a fine house for you, you would thrive there. But I can’t ignore the bravery you hold, you’re more brave than you think, daring too. Gryffindor would be just as good of an option, but where to put you.”_

What the fiddly fuck. Since when am I any of those things? What makes me brave or daring?

_“GRYFFINDOR!”_

A small cry escapes my lips as the harsh sound echoes and my hands fly to cover them as the hat is pulled from my head. Erwin is grinning at me then looks up to meet Hanji’s eyes.

“Get that down to the great hall so sorting can start as soon a Levi arrives, you know he doesn’t want to be stuck with the first years longer than he has too” Erwin says before turning back to me. “Congratulations, Jean, you’re a Gryffindor. If you’d like to follow Hanji back down to the entrance hall, I’ll be down shortly” he says before turning back to previous task.

Hanji guides me back down to the grand stair case of the entrance hall, informing me the the head of my house is the charms professor, Mike Zacharius, and that I should have no problems with him either. I ask about the hat, and receive a simple shrug. “It’s just kinda always been here” the tell me.

The entrance hall is packed as students file into the Great Hall. I manage down the stairs carefully before Hanji rushes ahead of me, only turning to give me a curt wave, before disappearing in the throng of people. I look around, praying to find freckles, or even Sasha and Connie. I plunge into the pack of students, looking around for accents of yellow and an overgrown undercut. My search is not fruitful as i’m herded through the doors with my peers.

My jaw metaphorically hits the floor. I would like to personally thank the architect of this school, it is truly beautiful. Thousands of candles float above me, set against a ceiling that looks transparent. The night sky is bright above me, the clouds have finally parted, gracing us with a clear sky. Banners of each house are hung above their respective table, all four tables stretch seemingly endlessly to stop before a risen platform that hosts a long table, a high backed chair, and an owl adorned podium. Teachers have taken their seats, watching on as we all find our own. I notice a messy brown ponytail stop in front of the platform before hurrying to find their seat with the rest of the staff. On the right wall is a striking fireplace; the Gryffindor table rests next to it, then Hufflepuff, Slytherin, and Ravenclaw on the far left. The tables are adorned with polished plates, goblets, and silverware. Everything just seems illuminated.

I shuffle my way through the crowd towards my table, stealing glances at the ceiling as I successfully manage to not run into anyone, until I feel someone thump against my shoulder.

“It’s bewitch to look like the night sky” he tells me with a grin.

Marco is at my right hand, looking up at the ceiling with a look that shows he’s pleased with himself. I breath out a laugh, relieved that I’ve found a familiar set of freckles. “I would have never guessed.”

He looks back to me and I notice he stands a few inches above me; “So, where’ve you been sorted?” he asks eagerly, nudging me with his elbow.

 “Ah, Gryffindor. But the hat seriously considered Slytherin. Can’t tell if that’s good or bad, but i’m just glad to finally belong to a house.” We stop between the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor tables, the crowd thinner now.

“Congratulations Jean, I think you’ll really enjoy it there. I have a few good friends in that house, I’m sure you’ll meet them soon. Keep an eye out for Mikasa and Eren, okay?” He’s sincere, not the fake kind, but the real kind that makes me smile.

 “Yeah, of course. I mean, I could use some friends” I let slip before I can catch myself. I really hope it doesn’t sound pitiful.

“Don’t worry, you’ll have more soon.” 

“More?”

Marco offers me a nod and all I can do is shove my hands in my pockets and stare at the floor as I feel the heat rise up my face.

“Hey, I gotta go sit down okay? You’ll be alright, go make some friends and enjoy yourself tonight, yeah?” he says with another saintly smile before departing to sit near the front with a small group that has already gathered.

I awkwardly shuffle to take a seat on one of the benches that line the table, praying the empty spaces around me fill quickly, because I feel like a really big loser right now. I fiddle with the hem of my sleeve, wondering how I can get red trim on my robes so I won’t look like a houseless noob all year. 

“Why do you have first year robes?”

I hate my life.

Oh God I hate my life even more as pretentious-guy Eren plops down in the seat next to me while blessed-by-Aphrodite takes the seat across from him. “I was just sorted” I mutter, dropping my hands into my lap.

“Why were you just sorted? You look like a sixth year” he barks with a laugh yet quickly halting at the look he receives from his accomplice.

“Be nice Eren, I’m not afraid to sit you out from games this year” she says, turning her gaze to watch Erwin settle into his high backed seat at the staff’s table.

“Mikasa” Eren groans before turning back to me.

“I just transfered from Beauxbatons” I say for what seems to be the millionth time.

“Oh that makes sense; and you wound up in Gryffindor?”

No, I’m a Ravenclaw you idiot. “Uh, yeah, why else would I be sitting here?” 

“Wow, okay, calm down horsey, no need to get nippy” he mutters, raising his hands in defense.

“Eren!” Mikasas snaps, side glancing him into submission.

It works because he offers a half hearted apology. “I’m Eren Jäger, by the way. This is my sister Mikasa” he adds with a grumble. 

Eren Jäger, the pretentious looking asshole. He has what seems to be a constant smug grin when he isn’t looking confused or curious; he’s got a mop of messy brown hair and tanned skin. His eyes are vivd, intense, and mildly intimidating. His sister, Mikasa, is blessed-by-Aphrodite. She is shades lighter than Eren but has long, flowing, black hair. She doesn’t seem to hold gazes long, her dark eyes constantly finding something new to look. She has a resting face that sits between bitch and calm, and that terrifies me. 

“Jean Kirstein” I reply, noticing the last few stragglers taking their seat. “So do we have to do anything for this welcoming ceremony or?”

“No, its basically just to get the first years sorted and update everyone on the rules. It goes fairly quickly, the kids are almost always terrified of Levi, the try to get through it as quickly as possible” he says as the hall silences.

You can hear the distant echo of shuffling feet drowned by a crisp click. The short haired man from the train station is back, followed by a herd of frightened looking first years. He’s swapped out his lantern for a clenched jaw and a scroll that’s tightly clenched in his fist. At the very back of the group, a group of student track water down the center isle. They gather at the front of the hall where a stool and the sorting hat waits. Levi unrolls the scroll and is quick to get down to business. He stands at the front, barking out the names of children, plopping the hat down and snatching it up once their house has been determined. When the final student is sorted and skitters away to sit with the Slytherin’s, Levi retreats to the staff’s table and Erwin emerges to stand behind the podium.

“Welcome to Hogwarts!” he says, grinning faintly at the students before him. “And welcome back for another year. First, our start of term notices. I would like to remind everyone that entering the Forbidden Forest is, as the name implies, forbidden. Curfew is set at ten ‘o clock, anyone caught outside of their houses past that time will be at the mercy of the head of their house.” At this he gives the Slytherin table a glance, his smile unwavering. “Please refrain from swimming in the black lake and keep magic out of the hallways. Now, enjoy your selves and have a wonderful term.”

The tables suddenly bloom with dishes and platters of food, and thankfully my surprised flinch goes unnoticed. The sound of gasps and the clinking of silverware echo through the hall before the steady hum of chatter begins again. Beside me, Eren is already grabbing at whatever is in reach and cringe at the sight. “How exactly-“ I begin, but a mouth full of food unfortunately responds.

“Magic, you idiot. You go to a wizarding school, what else do you expect?” Eren turns to me, mumbling through a bread roll.

“Wow okay, pardon my curiosity” I spit before aggressively shoveling mashed potatoes onto the plate in front of me.

“Calm down, Jean. I’m just fuckin’ with you” he says, elbowing me in the ribs.

“Really? You are literally fucking with me at this exact moment, in front of the entire school?” I snort sarcastically, adding roast beef to my growing hoard of food.

“Oh my God, I hate you.” Eren chokes mid swallow, before coughing out a fit of laughter. “You’re such an ass. We’re going to get along just fine” he says, slapping me on the back.

I grin down at the table before looking up watch the faces of those around me. Mikasa is eating quietly as Eren rambles on to some guy on the other side of him about quidditch. She only pokes her head up when her brother mentions tryouts.

“Don’t get too cocky yet Eren, you still have to try out like everyone else.”

“But you’ve already seen me play! Why do returning members have to go through tryouts?” He pouts, stabbing irritatedly at his steak.

“Because I’m Captain and I said so. And if you’ve been on the team before, you shouldn’t have to worry about getting replaced. Unless, of course, you’re afraid you’ll be surpassed. If that’s the case, you better start practicing.” She turns back to her plate as Eren lets out a groan of frustration.

“W-when are the tryouts? For the team I mean” I pipe up, my gaze flitting to anywhere but the two.

“You play quidditch?!” Eren asks enthusiastically, dropping his fork abruptly onto his plate. 

“Uh, yeah, I typically play chaser.” I feel Mikasa’s gaze on me and an impending interrogation from Eren as I sip awkwardly at my water.

“Same, Mika’s Captain and Keeper; you any good?”

“I guess, I mean I’ve been flying since I was like eight” I say sheepishly, poking at some stray peas and carrots.

“Then you should try out” Mikasa offered from behind her goblet.

I can feel the familiar heat rising in my cheeks, Eren grins at me, waiting for my say eagerly. “Yeah, sure, okay. Uh, when are they?”

“Last Saturday of September on the Pitch” she says curtly.

“We should practice some time, Kirstein. Toss the ball around, shake the dust off. Maybe a match?” Eren is radiating, he has that look of an excited puppy when you ask them if they want to go for a walk.

“Alright, I’m up for a one on one.” I know when the time comes I’ll be a nervous wreck. Eren looks like quidditch is his game, like he’s good, _really_ good. But I know I need something that’s familiar to me, I need some normalcy. Things are going to very different and I am only going to know change for a long time, something I am not a fan of, but I know for the sake of my mental stability I’ve got to throw myself in something or I’m going to be floating remains of a shipwreck for the next two years. 

Eren and I talk quidditch as we finish our meals. He’s been playing for ages, his mother decided to take all his energy and focus and direct it towards something productive when he was young; Mikasa just tagged along and turned out to a little more than fantastic. While he tells me about the time the two engaged in a match for three days, and he only managed to score twice, I nearly faint. You’ve done so good today, Jean, why now?

What sends me reeling from my seat and starts the black dots in my vision is the translucent figure of a man that has risen from the floor to stand in the middle of the table on the other side of Eren. His head wobbles dangerously on his shoulders as he turns to gaze at the new students. I know I’ve paled to a similar shade as I stare at the back of his head. I swallow thickly, balling my fists in the fabric of my robe. Eren notice’s immediately, he stares at me before turning to see what has me frozen.

A bark of laughter brings me back as my gaze flits back to Jäger. He’s clutching his stomach, laughing about how I literally look like I’ve seen a ghost. The gears start turning again and it clicks, “What the hell, why are there ghosts in the castle?” I ask. Now I’m bewildered as to why there’s a dead person floating around the school, more than I’m scared about actually seeing said dead person.

“It’s just Nick, he’s harmless, I swear” Eren laughs as he wipes at his eyes. “They’re just ghosts. They don’t do much other than float around and pass through the occasional annoying student.” He takes a deep breath, calming himself as my luck just gets better. I look around and notice more have joined us in the Great Hall, one particular fat, monk-looking ghost chatting to animatedly to Connie and Sasha.

“This school is so weird, you have little ghost companions just strolling through the castle” I groan, dragging my hands down my face.

 

— — —

 

Dinner passes without anymore hiccups, and I’m full on chocolate gateau and Eren’s energy when the prefects begin to call for the first years of their house. I catch Marco’s eyes as he moves towards to the doors, a heard of children behind him. He smiles knowingly and I wonder if he sneaked glances my way to monitor my friend-making assignment during dinner. Eren gets to his feet, popping his back lazily before turning back to me. “I am going to assume you don’t want to tour with Mikasa and the babies. Come along, Jean.”

We straggle behind the first years, Eren giving me his pitiful version of directions as we wind through the castle. “And then you go this way, and then you go here” he says every time we make a turn.

“And then you put your left foot in, then your left foot out.” I receive a deserving shove as we stop in front of the brightly lit corridor I noticed earlier. “What the hell…” I stop in the archway, staring up into a tower of dozens and dozens of moving stair cases. Pictures line the wall, their occupants watching us. Some wave, smile, and offer welcoming words. Others dart from picture to picture as if to get away from the chaos. 

“The stairways, they take you to nearly every floor in the castle” Eren offers before nudging me forward.

We climb up through the tower, tailing our fellow Gryffindors as we wait for steps to move or return. Mikasa takes the group of students to a platform and they all funnel through an entrance to what looks like another corridor, Eren and I barely make it before the stairs decide to move again. Behind the passage is a wide corridor that stretches left and right, the walls decorated with tapestries the other adorns tall windows and suits of armor. To my right it extends a way before turning right again; to my left, a little ways down, is a large painting of a fat lady. She’s speaking to Mikasa warmly, occasionally glancing at the new students.

“Why is your sister talking to a painting?” I ask, watching the two before the painting swings on a hinge to open up, revealing an open doorway. 

“Because she guards the Gryffindor tower. She’s also kind of the door but is also a painting? I don’t know why they chose that, but we typically just call her the Fat Lady” he says with a shrug. Wow, that totally isn’t rude at all.

We file in with the others, pausing at the threshold listen to the her chirp at us. “The password is Bumbershoot this semester! Remember this now because I won’t be telling you it again!” She rings, voice shrill and a bit too cheery for my taste.

I’m met with a rush of warm air as I step through the doorway, “God, it’s hot” I grouse.

“Sorry, I’ll try to tone it down a bit” Eren says smugly, throwing a smirk over his shoulder at me.

“Mhmm, yeah, you’re just radiating so much I’m going to faint.” My eyes roll before they take in my surroundings. The entrance to the tower is a large, circular room. Red couches and seats litter the area, a grand fireplace crackles warmly and students have already taken a seat on the rug before it. Tables and chairs rest near the wall along with the lit lanterns that give a soft, warm glow. The floor is hard wood, the walls stone with the occasional window. On opposite sides of the room are entrance’s to a spiral staircase.

“Well, this is the common room. This is pretty much where we sit and hangout when we’re bored and have nothing to do, or need to get homework done” Eren tells me with a lazy gesture to the room before us.

“Where do the stair cases go?” I ask curiously as we edge around the pack of youngsters. Mikasa and the other prefects are lecturing them on the rules that I should probably be paying attention to, but I’m tailing Eren as we ascend the steps to my left. There are two doors that face each other on every platform. On each door is a year number and four names; the first years are near the bottom of the steps, and I realize I’m going be the most irritated student in this school every time I have to go to my room because of the climb that’s ahead of me.

Near the top of the tower, Jäger lets out a shout of delighted surprise before turning to look at me. “Guess what.”

“Oh I have no idea, what could you possible be squealing at?” I say flatly before a grin cracks on my lips.

Eren buffs my shoulder before pushing open the heavy oak door, “Get in here, loser.”

I look to see who else is on the plaque of our room; we’ve got a Farlan and a Tom. Who the hell names their kid Tom?

The inside of the room holds a warm glow, a wood burning stove rests in the middle with railing wrapped around it. There are four, four poster beds, each with deep red curtains and comforters. A door to my left is cracked open, light spilling out onto the worn, wooden floors.

“Bathroom” Eren tells me before plopping down onto the bed closest to the door. His things have already been brought up and unpacked into the trunk at the end of the bed and on the dresser next to it. I spot my things and shuffle over to it awkwardly as the guy in the bathroom steps out, toothbrush hanging from his mouth.

“Farlan. I already know Eren and Tom, so you’re Jean” he says absently, wiping away the toothpaste thats dribbled down his chin. He retrieves a pair of pajama’s from the bed to my right before yawning out a request that I keep myself from snoring.

On my right Eren lets out a content sigh, sitting up in his bed to watch me. “He’s cool, doesn’t talk much, but he’s fine. Tom is also okay, I guess. He usually has his nose in the books, so he doesn’t really stick around here often.”

I’m okay with that, this arrangement seems just fine. I crawl up onto my own bed, running my fingers across the soft fabric as I run through the day’s events. I might have actually made some friends, or people who are friendly towards me, I’ll accept both. I know where to find food and how to get to my dorm, two essentials taken care of. I know where to go to for quidditch and even have someone who’s willing to practice with me. I fall back onto the pillows, staring up at the top of my bed. A wave of exhaustion washes over me and I yawn, wondering if I could just fall asleep now.

I mind wanders back to Marco, I wonder if I’ll be seeing more of him or if today was just a chance to get to know a stranger. And then I start taking on water. What if Marco was just being nice to me because he’s a prefect? Or feels like he owed me some kindness for occupying my compartment? I worry my lip as my anxiety grows; but he told me about his family and home. That’s stuff people do when establishing friendships right? I mean, people don’t just give that information to strangers or people they aren’t interested in. I relax at that thought, reminding myself that people don’t open up without any reason. He also made it so easy to talk about my home, about my life, even my mom. The smiles he give me seem endearing and authentic, and I resolve myself to not ruin that. Please Jean, don’t recluse. Please don’t hide or sink, you don’t have a life raft yet and you’re only going to drown.

“You asleep?” Eren prods at my shoulder, he’s swapped out his robes for an old shirt and sweatpants. 

“No, just thinking” I answer honestly, blinking up at him. I don’t remember my eyes falling shut, but when I sit up I discover Farlan already nestled into his bed and Tom tucking into his own. With a groan I crawl out of bed to search through my dresser for my pajamas. I fold my robes neatly before ditching my hoodie and jeans, tossing them into the hamper under my window. I throw my old The Killers shirt over my head and tug on a pair of shorts before crawling groggily back into my bed. 

Eren’s already back in bed and I’m the last to draw my curtains. I feel my anxiety start up as I realize that classes begin tomorrow and I haven’t a clue where anything is, but my drowsiness says fuck that the moment my head hits the pillow. I can just ask Marco I think before sleep takes me.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! This will be my first ever multi-fanfic, so bear with me. I'm always open for comments and critiques; you can find me on tumblr: http://howlscastl3.tumblr.com/ and I'll track the tag fic: TofN  
> Thanks, and enjoy!
> 
> 8Track for this fic: http://8tracks.com/princessmarco/time-of-night


	4. Chapter 4

I can hear the faint hissing of water as I turn onto my stomach in my sleep. I press against the pillows harder, willing myself not too wake up. I feel safe and warm, I am at peace with the world behind my crimsoned curtains as I flex my fingers around the covers that I’ve balled into my fist during the night. The squeak and squeal of pipes and a cease in the sound of running water forces me to crack a sleep-dusted eye open. Light from the windows poor into the room and seep through the veils that are supposed to block the living out. I groan at the sliver of light that falls over the bridge of my nose before turning to burry my face in my pillow, wiggling down further into my blankets, relishing in the plush comfort of my bed. 

I hear the creaking of floor boards and the sound of drawers being drawn open. I wonder who’s getting ready and if I’m the last to wake up. I don’t remember setting an alarm last night, and I’m not regretting it. I roll onto my side, facing the door as I curl into my comforter with a content sigh. I could lay here forever, happily, in a tired daze.

I’ve never been a morning person, I value the beauty of sleep way to much, especially when it’s dreamless. Dreamless sleep is the best escape mankind can find from pain, fear, and anxiety. Nothing exists for those sold hours of temporary lifelessness. It’s like being temporarily dead, but you wake up when you’re body decides to be that guy and tell you that you can’t lay around forever. 

Eren also decides to be that guy. “Rise and shine! Classes start today!” He shouts, tearing my curtains aside and letting the flood of morning sunshine through. My head snaps up, intending to tell him to piss off but I am unfortunately met with the sight of a wet Jäger, towel hanging loosely from his hips, clothes tucked under his arm.

“Oh my fucking God” I deadpan before pulling a pillow over my face. “PUT YOUR CLOTHES ON” I scream from behind the fabric. I am only met with laughter before I dare to remove my shield. Eren has at least put boxers on before towel drying his hair lazily. I catch myself staring at the flexing back muscles, eyes following the last few droplets travel down the curve of his spine. 

I snap up in my bed, trying to throw my sheet-tangled legs over the side, I struggle to get to my feet but once their on the ground I power walk right out of that situation. Eren informs me that I have an hour till classes start and that he’ll be in the Great Hall for breakfast as I slam the bathroom door shut. My forehead falls against the wood with a thump as my breath comes in ragged pants. That was really strange and I would like to personally apologize for my weird blip of awkwardness.

I’m not quite sure why I even looked in the first place, it isn’t even like I’m attracted to guys, let alone Eren. I literally just met him last night and he’s mildly irritating/obnoxious. Maybe I was just appreciating the beauty of the human body, that’s alright, right? In like a no homo way? I mean, I can acknowledge and appreciate good looks without being attracted to the person that possesses them. Even then, why does it even matter if it’s a guy? Jean, be honest with yourself, you don’t have the slightest clue about your sexuality. You’ve never really even considered it.

I lift my head with a huff to look around the bathroom. It’s simple, small. A clawfoot tub shower sits in the corner with the sink and toilet on the opposite side. I press my ear to the door, hearingEren shuffle out of the room, the creak and click of the door affirming his absence. 

I let hot water relax my tension as much as it possibly can. I indulge in the feeling of burning heat that claws at my skin with every drop of water that falls on my back. I miss my iPod as I belt out Mr. Brightside, knowing I would sound significantly better if I were echoed by Brandon Flowers.

Thankfully I have the dorm to myself as I shuffle about, getting ready to the best of my abilities. I stare at myself in the mirror after I’m satisfied with my mess of sandy blond hair. I wonder if I can fill out like Eren this year. My arms aren’t bad, you kind of have to have muscle to throw around a quaffle, but the rest of me is just average. This is embarrassing, okay time to get dressed. I find Gryffindor ties and scarfs in my sock drawers, and all my school uniforms and robes have been changed to hold red trim and the house crest rather than the plain black and Hogwarts coat of arms. 

I have a little more than half an hour before classes when I’m throwing my bag over my shoulder and darting out of the dorm and down the stairs. I regret bringing every book with me, but I don’t want to risk not having the book to my first class then being late to go back and get it. The Fat Lady shouts a good morning at me as I hurry towards the moving stair cases. I thankfully do not fall to my death on the way down but it takes a couple of tries to get to the first floor, I make it out with only some mild embarrassment.

I pause at the top of the grand stair case, watching students flow in and out of the great hall. My anxiety returns as I remind myself that my list of acquaintance’s is short. What if Eren and Marco have other friends they want to sit with? I don’t want to be that asshole who sticks themselves where they aren’t wanted. I make my way down the steps eyeing the open, gilded doors anxiously. Eren did say he would be in the Great Hall, that’s kind of an invitation, right? My palms are clammy and I shove them into my pockets, striding calmly through the entrance.I worry my lip as I scan the tables for Eren and Marco; my eyes fall on a small bunch of people. I catch messy brown hair and a dumb black part and instinctively travel towards them.

I pause in front of the bizarre group of people before taking the empty seat next to Eren, dropping my bag onto the floor behind me.

“Good morning, Jean!” Marco chirps from the seat across from me.

“Jean sings in the shower, pass it on” Eren says, grin smug as he side glances me.

I choke on my response, whipping my head to stare at my asshole roommate. “Seriously? Is that really necessary?” I growl before dropping my gaze.

Marco is stifling a laugh, eyes trained on me as I fill my goblet with orange juice a bit too aggressively. 

The tall sweaty guy from the train who sits across from Eren offers me a kind smile, “Don’t worry Jean, so does Reiner, and you can’t be worse that him. I’ve heard practically every Disney song every created a thousand times now because of him. I’m Bertolt by the way-”

Muscle man just booms with laughter as he bumps his shoulder against his companion, “Oh don’t act like you don’t love my singing” he says before placing a messy kiss on Bert’s cheek. Boyfriends, I am corrected.

“And this is Reiner” he says with a sigh, leaning into the touch with a faint smile.

“Oh yeah, introductions, I’m sorry!” Marco says, sitting down his toast. “Alright, so you have Annie, Ymir, Reiner and Bertolt. Annie and Bert are Slytherin’s seventh year prefects, and Reiner is their quidditch captain.”

“Beater! Ymir’s our keeper and Annie’s our seeker. Bert’s too clumsy to fly so he’s our head cheerleader” Reiner says fondly.

“And then you have Armin, Historia, and Thomas. Arm’ and Historia are the sixth year Ravenclaw prefects, and Thomas is head boy.” I watch sideburn’s snake his arm around Marco’s, and unlike the other two, he doesn’t offer a smile. Just a placid look that tells me he isn’t enthused.

“He’s not a morning person. But then you’ve obviously met Eren and Mikasa, and that’s about it.” He’s beaming at me, eyes bright and waiting for my response.

“Everyone seems so elite…” I say hesitantly, chewing at the inside of my cheek.

“Don’t worry Jean! Connie, Eren, and I aren’t anything fancy!” Sasha says as she plops down in the seat next to me, Connie taking the one across from her.

“Yeah, don’t worry, all of us can be lame together” Connie says reassuringly before he joins Sasha in devouring everything in sight.

“I am not a loser!” Eren shouts defensively, pointing his egg laden fork at the two giggling dorks beside me. “I am just not fit for a position of responsibility.”

I crack a smile, looking around this merry bunch of misfits before Marco holds out a scroll for me. “I grabbed your schedule for you, I figured you could use some help getting around the first day.” His eyes soften as I take the paper, “What is your first period?” 

“Uh, potions with Ackerman.” I lay down the times table in front of me as I pour cereal into my bowl lazily, the others resuming their meal now that the formalities are finished. 

“Oh duh, I should have known that. The Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs share that class this semester.” He finishes his toast as I start on my corn flakes before asking sheepishly “Um, are you any good at potions by chance?”

“Yeah, it’s the subject I scored highest on when I took the O.W.L.s.” I glance up at him from my breakfast and he looks like he’s just seen Jesus. My brow quirks at him before I turn back to my food.

“Oh, uh, then would you mind being my potions partner? I hardly made it into the class with Exceeds Expectations and could use all the help I can get, I mean, if you’d like, you don’t have to-“ 

“Calm down Marco, who else would I be partners with? Jäger?” I snort, enjoying the offended look I receive from Eren. “You can’t give me that look, you decided to share my bath time enjoyments.”

Marco gives a relieved sigh, looking back at the large clock that hangs over the fireplace before turning back to me. “Thank you so much, wanna get a head start?” 

I give him a nod, pushing away my bowl, not hungry enough to finish, before looking to Eren, Mikasa, Connie, and Sasha. “Are you all going to come now or later?” I get to my feet, heaving my bag over my shoulder again, receiving ‘nah’s and ‘we’ll catch up with you’s. With a shrug I look back to Marco, who’s hitching his backpack onto his shoulders.

“I’ll see you at lunch, have fun” he says, placing a kiss on the top of Thomas’s head. Marco gets a hum of affirmation before his boyfriend returns to watching everyone absently.

“He seems like a bowl of peaches and cream” I mutter as we head out of the Great Hall towards one of the entrances next to the Grand Staircase. I scuff my toe as I shuffle along, chancing glances up at him as my grip on the strap over my chest tightens. 

Marco just chuckles with a shrug, he looks up at me before going back to watching his steps, avoiding the cracks on the stone floor. “He really isn’t a morning person, but I think he might just be down because it’s his last year” he says solemnly, stepping down the first step in front of me as we begin our decent. “He honestly is more cheery than that usually. I think he’ll be better once dinner rolls around, by that time classes should take his mind off things, get him back into the swing of things, ya know?” His voice echoes off the walls as we spiral down the stairs, the air becoming cool the further we go. 

I nod, giving a quiet hum of affirmation, watching each step I take to make sure I’m not about skip one and fall to my untimely death. Then my curiosity gets the better of me, “How did you meet him? If you don’t mind me asking.” I steal quick glances up at Marco, trying to gauge his reaction but I can’t make out much of his expression with candle light and flitting eyes.

“No, it’s alright I don’t mind. It was at the beginning of last year when the prefects met on the train. He asked afterwards if he could sit with me and it just sort of went from there. He asked me out when we got back from Christmas holiday, it was a bit sudden but I said yes obviously.” Even in the faint flickering glow I can see the pink that dusts his cheeks. “Did you have someone special back at Beauxbatons?” 

I snort at the question; as we hit the bottom, a wave of dizzying nausea washes over and me without thinking, I grab at the fabric of his sleeve, holding on to Marco’s arm as I stare at the faintly lit grey stone beneath my feet. I (thankfully) don’t feel him tense and sigh with relief at his chuckle. “Sorry I just, that’s going to need some getting used too.” 

“It helps if you look up.” His voice is gentle as he leads me to the potions class, pushing open the creaking door to reveal a spacious room. The ceiling hangs low and there are shelves upon shelves of potions and ingredients that cover the walls. There are jars of peculiar looking creatures and old wooden cabinets. Near the front is a large, neatly organized table and chalk board. The air is muggy and cold, the room smells clean and there doesn’t seem to be a stool out of place. 

I drop my hand and follow Marco as he weaves through the tables, mind slinking back to his question. “No, relationships have never really been my area of expertise.” God I hope I don’t sound sad, I really don’t want pity for this. 

“Well, new year, new school, new group of people. You never know” he winked, well tried too, he just kinda blinked at me in an exaggerated fashion. I can see the regret sink into his expression as he turns away from me.

“Did you just try to wink?” I do my best to suppress my laughter, considering the guy is just trying to be nice, but god he looks like such a dork. 

His shoulders fall as we pick a table near the middle of the room, he drops his backpack on the stool in front of him with a huff before hauling his cauldron unceremoniously out to place it on the space before him. “Okay, so I can’t wink, but it’s the thought that counts, right?” His bottom lip sticks out in a pout as he digs for his potions supplies.

I snicker as I join him at the table, taking the seat to his right. “Yes, your encouraging blink is very much appreciated, doofus.” Grinning to myself, I drop my messenger bag to the floor, yanking out the black hunk of pewter. I swear if I have to carry this thing around all year, it is going to be a competition of what breaks first: my back or bag.

Marco’s tongue clicks, his feigning seriousness breaking as he cracks me a grin. “Um, excuse you, I am a prefect. You might want to watch yourself, Kirstein, wouldn’t want to loose Gryffindor any house points.”

My things clatter onto the table, I stare at him, daring him to continue. He gets an elbow in the ribs as I take my seat, his laughter surfacing. “You wouldn’t dare” I growl over his giggling, setting my cauldron on top the burner and placing my potions book in front of me. 

“You’re right, I don’t have the heart” he quips, matching my organization. I wonder if he’s doing it because I told him I’d help him at potions, all I know is that I could get used to that. Messy work stations are not my thing and I would probably end up organizing it for him if he didn’t.

“You also don’t have the ability to wink.”

“Alright, you know what” he says exasperatedly, head falling to thump against the table. He lets out a heavy sigh before turning to lookup at me, “I don’t need your sass, Jean.”

His sulking is endearing and I offer him a pat on the back as others begin to file into in the class room. “Alright alright, I believe that you can wink, you just gotta make a conscious effort to keep one eye open, yeah? Try one more time, humor me.”

Marco lets out a huff before giving his best effort at a forced wink. He looks like a constipated pirate but I don’t tell him that, I like his happy face more than his pouting one. He returns to humming happily to himself, scrawling his name on the inside of his potions book as the room fills with sounds of chatter and scraping chairs. Two boisterous voices join us; when I look up I catch Sasha staring at me from across our unit, with Connie opposite Marco. I feel someone slap me between the shoulders and my head whips around to find the grin of of Eren Jäger, Mikasa tailing him. They take the table behind me with some other Gryffindor’s that I don’t recognize, and I turn back to my own group, content with it’s members. Until Connie and Sasha start daring each other to eat various potions supplies.

Its the sharp sound of clicking heels that mutes the sound around me. Everyone seems to fall quiet as the short man from last night strides into the room. His black dress pants pleated down the front, and the sleeves of his white button down are rolled up to his elbows. He’s uniting the stupid cravat from around his neck and I hear Eren sigh out a ‘bruh’ from behind me as our professor drops the cloth on his desk and begins to scrawl something across the chalkboard.

“Page 16, I assume you all know what I expect by now, don’t leave a mess and don’t burn anything down. Get to work, brats.” He stuffs his hands into his pockets at stares blankly at the students before him. 

Marco groans from beside me, as he stares down at his book. “Of course we can’t do something simple on the first day, why would I expect anything different?” His whimper sparks snickers from Connie and Sasha and I look over to find ‘Oculus Potion’ in bold at the top of the entry.

I offer him an encouraging grin as I light the fire on our burners and pull the book to sit between us. “I told you I’d help you, I don’t know why you’re worried. Potion making is like, I dunno, baking cookies but a lot more detailed, yeah?”

I get a nod and a soft smile as we get to work. We work together, the background noise becoming a faint hum as I help him measure out ingredients, count off the colors, and correct the occasional mistake. I know my potion won’t turn out as good as it could but it’ll do. When Levi glowers over our shoulder we receive and an approving ‘hmm’ before he moves on. As the class rolls to an end, Marco and I each bottle a sample of our potions and drop them in the tray that sits on Levi’s desk. 

After we’ve cleaned out work space and stored out things in the old wooden cabinets, Marco and I hitch our bags up and give a parting wave to Connie and Sash before taking to the stairs again. I am thankful for the fresh air that hits my lungs as I step out into the great hall, there’s a lazy drizzle behind the open doors of the Entrance Hall. I feel Marco brush against my side and turn to look at him quizzically.

“Wanna go to the library? You haven’t been there yet, have you? And neither of us have a second period.” His voice is warm, contrasting the cool air that leaks into the castle. The candles that hang on the wall glint across his eyes and I don’t think I’ve seen a prettier brown. They’re light, rich, and ring of gold on the iris’s edge has me staring. I love finding aesthetically pleasing people.

My cough is awkward and forced as I find something else to look at, “Uh yeah, knowing where that is would probably be helpful.” My eyes default to look at the ground as I can’t find anything else as interesting. I feel a small tug on my robes and I look up to find Marco leading me towards to the unexplored corridor on the other side of the hall. 

Marco is significantly better at giving directions. He winds me through the castle, spouting off different facts from it’s history; there is the constant thrum of rain against windows and for how dreary things seem to be outside, I am the happiest I have been since getting on that train. Its only when we’re passing through the tall doors of the library, I remember our original plan. 

The library is impressive, there are book shelves that tower to the vaulted ceilings, stained glass windows, and a warm glow that doesn’t leave a single inch unlit. He takes me to a quiet corner hidden by rows of shelves and away from the sharp glares of the librarian. 

“Okay you sit here and I will be right back, I gotta grab you a book.” He’s excited as he makes sure I take a seat at our little table. Marco darts away to some section out of sight and I pull my schedule back out of my bag to check what class I have next. A few minutes later I hear the familiar shuffling and snap my head up to find the dorking grin returning. “Alright, so you need to read this. Or at least skim through it, I found it to be really interesting and helpful in my first year.” He says as a heavy, brown leather book is sat in front of me.

“Hogwarts: A History?” I stare up at him, before flicking the book open. The chapters start at the beginning of the school, it’s time of creation, and ending at the start of the 20th century. I hear the seat across from me scrape on the floor and Marco drop his bag beside him before pulling out his own schedule. He takes mine as I start on the first chapter and relaxes into his seat.

“We’ve got Care of Magical Creatures tomorrow for fourth period after lunch, and astronomy on Thursday at nine” he chirps. 

I slide our schedules across the table back to me to glance over his, one class catching my eyes. “You can take music here?” I’m curious, I’ve never been musically talented or anything to do with the arts for that matter. 

“Uh yeah, I play the piano. My mom used to play and we’ve had a piano in my house since I can remember and one day I just kinda sat at the bench and tried it. She taught me and I dunno, I guess its just a nice outlet for expression.” He’s bashful again, I catch him fiddling with the hem of his sleeves.

“If I can get you on a broom and off the ground, can I hear you play?” I ask, poking at his knuckles. “I’m guessing I’m gonna be spending a lot of time at the quidditch pitch, you’ll be tagging along on at least one trip, yeah?” 

He gives me a smile paired with a nod of affirmation, and we spend the rest of our free period wasting time in the library, trying our best to silence our laughter when we go through our Care of Magical Creature books, deciding who would win in a fight and which would make the best and worst pets. 

“Okay, so I understand you’re a really big cat person, but I swear if you try to own a Sphinx, you are literally going to die” I tell him when he attempts to convince me that owning one isn’t nearly as bad of an idea as it seems.

“Yeah but if I raise it from when it’s a cub-baby thing, it’ll just see me as its mother and wont try to kill me! Maybe it’ll even think it’s a human.”

“Yeah, no, Marco, I hate to inform you that it doesn’t work like that. Just because I raise a lion doesn’t mean it no longer wants to eat me! And it literally says right here that they’re ridiculously smart, it will be able to tell the difference between you and it” I say, jabbing at the open book between us.

He ultimately gets us kicked out of the library, but I don’t particularly mind. The rain has stopped and we’re standing in the middle of the Entrance Hall, watching people file out of their second periods and off to their third. I have to say goodbye to Marco as he leaves for transfiguration, and I for Charms. He tells me where to find the class and promises me that tonight he’ll show me the way to all my rooms. 

I thank him graciously as he climbs the steps, watching him disappear into the throng of students. I successfully manage to the Charms classroom without too much trouble and find relief at the name on my time table. Hanji mentioned that the head of my house is Professor Zacharius, who also happens to teach Charms.  

I spot Eren and Mikasa settling at a table near the front and decide to join them, slipping past chattering students and precariously pilled supplies. I let my bag fall to the floor and drop into the empty seat next to Eren. 

“Nice to see you again, Kirstein. Make a friend?” The grin he gives me is unsettling as he takes out his wand and book.  

I don’t let him get to my nerves as I gather my things to join his on the table, “Surprisingly, yes. Would’ve thought after spending a night in the same room you, there would be some negative side effects, like being an ass hole.” 

Eren barks out a laugh and we spend the class bantering back and forth and not getting much progress done on our assignment of perfecting a portus charm. We manage one successful run and I can get Eren to transport on top of a bookshelf, the empty ink well still clutched in his hands as he topples off with a screech. Professor Zacharius halts the lesson at that and we are all dismissed for lunch. 

My day has been too enjoyable to feel awkward at lunch, this morning I felt like I was intruding yet now as I sit between Marco and Armin, I genuinely feel like I’m not that out of place. Thomas seems to have cooled down and actually participates in some conversation.

“Okay, a, I would not swim in the black lake no matter how much you paid me, and b, even you can’t fight the giant squid, Reiner. There is a reason the noun ‘giant’ is in front of it” Thomas says flatly. Reiner has been trying to persuade the seventh years to go out with a bang and do something dangerous and/or against the rules.

“You could always spend a night in the Shrieking Shack” Armin offers, sipping from his goblet. He notices my confused expressions and continues, “It’s some haunted house near Hogsmeade. Nobody goes in it since it’s pretty hard to get to, but hey, at least there aren’t any creatures there that would try to eat them.”

Marco’s face holds a terrified expression during the entire debate, bargaining with Reiner to try and get his boyfriend out of all the potentially deadly plans. I don’t say much, and when lunch comes to a close, I am happily reminded that for me, my day is over. I know I will be more thankful for this free time later as the classes get harder, but for now I am anxious just to get out of these clothes and explore my new surroundings.

“Hey, Marco, when do you wanna map out the castle?” I’m getting to my feet, pulling the strap of my messenger bag over my shoulder when he looks up at me, his grumpy expression softening. 

“How about after dinner? It’ll be shorter so we’ll have more time since students don’t have to be sorted and all.”

“Alright, fine by me” I say with a shrug. “I’m going to get out of these things, I’ll you guys later.” I give everyone a wave and am happy to hear the pleasant goodbyes from the group. Jäger warns me about not messing with his things and that he knows where I live, I catch myself before I can hold up the finger over my shoulder, thinking better about it.

 

— — —

 

I clamber up the stairs and into my room, cursing the school under my breath as I shut the door behind me. The room is unusually cold and I find the source of the draft rather quickly. The window between Eren and I’s beds has been unlatched and upon my dresser sits a barred owl. “Pyro, you idiot” I grouse, crossing the room to tug the window shut. Rain water has dripped down the stone and formed a puddle on the floor, and the fire has gone down to embers. I fetch a towel from the bathroom and throw it at the general area of the puddle before turing my attention to the heater. I add a few logs and restart the fire before disposing my things on the edge of my bed.

“How come you can unlock things but not close them?” I ask, noticing the packages that rest on my bed. The owl offers me a faint hoot as I pick my broom up, grinning stupidly at it. I wonder if the weather will clear enough to give me some flying time, then I remember that I have no clue where the pitch is and I would look like a really big idiot just flying around the castle. With a huff I plop down on my bed and untie the string around the brown box my mother sent.

I already have an idea of what it is before I can even open it, and my nose is correct as I fold back the top of the box, reveling a tupperware container filled with an assortment of lemon madeleines and red velvet macarons. I crack open the container and take one of each cookie and grab the letter in the box before flopping back onto my pillows. 

My mom tells me about some interesting case about a wizard who’s been bewitching muggles then robbing them, she talks about how empty the house already seems and that she’s thinking of getting a dog. I’ll have to remember to remind her that she doesn’t have the time or patients to train one, and that we live in an apartment that isn’t exactly ideal for canines. I nibble at her baking, reading through her letter and missing her more than I expected.

Its one thing to receive a letter, and then there’s another to actually hear a persons voice. I am the kind of person that finds comfort in hearing someone, knowing full well that they are there and safe and okay. When you read words on a sheet of paper, you cannot gauge their emotions and well being, but when you hear their voice, it’s easier to understand how they are doing. I wonder if my mom is actually doing alright or if she’s saying it for my sake.

I’m brought out of my thoughts as the door creaks open and Eren climbs in, shuffling towards his bed and dropping his things on top of his trunk. I watch his eyes drop to my broom that sits on the floor next to my bed. “Wanna go to the pitch? The rain has stopped.”

“I’m not even sure why you’re asking.” I set the letter and cookies on my bed side table and roll off the bed to retrieve a hoodie and a pair of jeans from my dresser. “Just let me get out of this and we can go.”

 

— — —

 

Eren is bolting down the slope of the castle through the wet grass and I’m trying my best to keep at his heal. My converse get little to no traction and I nearly fall on my ass a few times, but when the quidditch pitch looms into my view, I couldn’t care less. Eren doesn’t even wait till he’s on the field to take to the sky, I however would actually like to get a good look with what I’m working with. I pace around the field a few times, Eren daring to swoop in as close to me as possible without actually hitting me. After he’s had his fill, he disappears into the Gryffindor changing room, bringing out a bright red ball that I know so well.

I’m in the air before he can toss it at me, and we loose time and care for what seems to be hours. I throw myself into the game because I know if do not walk out with at least one more point that Eren, I will not hear the end of it. And I just really want to see him pissy. We race back and forth from goals, trying to steal the quaffle from each other. We crash a few times and our knee are grass stained and muddy by the time the rain starts again.

You can barely see the sun sink bellow the horizon from behind the clouds, and I’m paused in the air, heavy droplets starting to rolls down my face. The setting sun glints as a wall of clouds break and the quidditch pitch, castle, Eren, I, everything is bathed in hues of pink and orange. The light radiates across the tops of the trees and reflect off the surface of the lake; I wonder if Marco is seeing this right now. I don’t mind the returning down pour, I feel my shoulders fall with the rain and I breath deeply, calmly. Maybe things here will be okay. 

 

— — —

 

I lose, of course, by a couple of points. But I am strangely not as cranky about it as I thought I would be. Eren and I trudge back up the slick slope, laughing at how ridiculous we look right now. Our bangs are plastered to our forehead and we look like the human embodiment of wet dogs; Eren has a stripe of mud across his cheek and I can feel some drying under my chin. I learn that no matter how tight your skinny jeans are, when they are wet, you will struggle to keep them up; I’ve got one hand clinging to my broom and the other on my back belt loop. 

The last rays from the sun have disappeared as we climb the steps of the entrance hall, night claiming the sky above our heads. I am exhausted, hungry, and utterly repulsed at my current state, but that doesn’t dampen my spirits. We luckily manage to our dorm without getting caught by staff, though I’m sure our trail of water and dirt up to Gryffindor tower will mean a little less points in our hour glass.

When I’ve successfully thrown on my Oasis shirt, put pants on that don’t feel like they've just gone through the wash, and Eren has managed to not look gross, we head back down to the entrance hall, looking at our mess as innocently as possible.

Eren and I are the first Gryffindor’s of the group to arrive, and a Slytherin has yet to appear. I take the seat next to Marco, who’s also gotten rid of the obnoxious school robes and adorns just the regular uniform. Thomas has opted to sit across from him rather than cling to his side for this meal. Connie and Sasha are on Marco’s other side and Eren takes the seat opposite me. We chat aimlessly till the rest of the lot arrive, Mikasa shooting a knowing scowl at Eren and I, not taking any of our shit. 

When dinner is served, I bless the cooks who have decided to serve comfort food today, because I’ve never been happier to see chips in my life. I am unfortunately informed that I cannot take the entire plate, and begrudgingly end up sharing with Marco, Connie, and Sasha, though as my freckled friend becomes immersed in a conversation about Disney musicals with Reiner, I stealthily snag a few from his plate.

“Jean Kirstein, I know full well that you are stealing my food, put them back” he says casually, interjecting his previous thought before continuing about how Tangled is his personal favorite.

I give my best saintly voice and try again because it’s too fun to watch him try and keep his cool, “I have no idea what you are talking about, Marco Bodt, I am not doing anything.” I just take his plate now, and he gives me a few moments of perceived success before snapping it back.

“I do not like you right now, you know that?” He can’t even keep a straight face, a grin cracks on his lips and he just stares at me, waiting for me to let go. 

I don’t let go; I simply return the gaze, playful smile on my face, “You do too, you know it.” My voice comes out as murmur, muted more than I intend and I become faintly aware of the fading conversations around us.

I feel his fingers slip as he gives in, a sigh escaping him, “alright, you win.” His glare holds no spite as he turns back to his previous engagement. 

I relish in my victory, batting away Eren’s hand. I feel eyes boring into me and look up, about to tell him off for being a three year old, but catch the burning glare of Thomas. The look on this kids face right now is the perfect portrayal of ‘can you not?’

I don’t really do well with confrontation, so I just stare at him blankly, ignoring the uneasy burn at the back of my neck, before going back to my food. I escape without anymore hiccups but am thoroughly perplexed as to what Thomas’s problem is. Maybe he just doesn’t like it when people share food? I have no idea, but what I do know is that he needs to calm down.

Marco and I give our goodnights to everyone before leaving the Great Hall, but not before Thomas looses his chill again stares at me suspiciously. Marco gives him a smile and peck on the crown of his head before nodding at me to follow him out the doors.

“I am pretty certain that your boyfriend does not like me” I say once we’re out of ear shot of everyone. This revelation actually kind of disgruntles me a bit, I mean, I don’t necessarily feel the need to be liked by everyone, but it’s just disheartening to think someone I’ve never even talked to already hates me. 

His shoulders slump as he exhales a breath I didn’t know he was holding. “He’s just, I dunno, really off today. I don’t think he hates you, Thomas is kind of serious. He doesn’t play around a lot with just anyone, only with close friends, and it’s your first day. He just met you after all.” His voice is reassuring as he pats my arm gently.

“You two sound like you’re at different ends of the spectrum” I comment, snagging the folded time table from my back pocket and handing it to Marco. “How do you get along so well?”

He takes it carefully, straightening out the creases. His eye brown knit together and I wonder why he ponders a question like that. “We have our scuffles, every relationship has them, but I think what always brings us back is the similarity we share that isn’t always seen.”

“Like what?” The words tumble out before I can stop them. That is not mine to know or even want to know, this is a guy’s (who I met two days ago) relationship that I don’t need to get into. But my interest has been peaked, how does someone who always radiates positivity with a smile plastered onto his face have a successful relationship with someone who hardly cracks a grin?

“Well, uh, for starters he loves music. He’s given me tons of sheet music and asked that I learn certain songs. We both like quiet time together, and he loves helping me with stuff. When it’s just us, things are nice.” Marco give a nervous chuckle, scratching at the back of his neck.

My nod is stiff and curt as I shove my hands into my pockets, searching for words while he leads me up the stairs of the Great Hall. “What ever floats your boat” I say as sincerely as I can. I mean, it isn’t my business, getting into other people’s relationships that is. As long as he says he’s happy, I shouldn’t be questioning it. I resolve myself to keep out of that area of discussion because it’ll most likely just end up awfully awkward.  

“But uh, yeah. Anyway, your first class tomorrow is transfiguration with Petra. She’s especially kind and I think you’ll enjoy her class. She doesn’t assign a lot of homework, but her classes are usually busy; you’ll almost always have something to do.” His expression is amiable, he tucks the sheet into his pocket before turing to me, simpering. “So, how was your first day?” 

Of course I would get this question, everyone does when your in my situation. I shrug, letting out a heavy breath, mulling over today’s events. “It…turned out better than I expected.” My voice is hesitant and I catch a look of concern cross over his face.

“Why’d you think it wouldn’t turn out alright?” The distress in his voice doesn’t fit him, and the fact that I put it there makes my stomach churn.

Our pace slows and my words nearly catch in my throat. “I…I didn’t think I’d have anyone. I expected to be alone most of the time.” 

His head snaps up, meeting my gaze with a frown on his lips. “Why would you think that?” He slows to a stop, his voice isn’t angry or sad, it’s genuine and I have no idea why. 

I’m getting flustered, I can’t talk about feelings. My voice catches in my throat with an uncomfortable cough, I don’t know how to explain my social anxiety or lack of ability to interact with and trust people. My mind and heart are conflicting, my conscience is yelling out orders to build a wall but my heart is saying to trust Marco, he’s been a decent person so far, and seems genuine. God I hope I’ve made the right choice.

“I’ve never been good at…this” is how I put it so eloquently, motioning lazily between Marco and I. “I just get anxious and afraid that I’ll say or do something dumb and people will hate me for it.” I shrug, keeping my eyes trained on the floor, praying the response I receive isn’t one of rejection. 

“And you say I’m the doofus.”

That was not what I had expected. My gaze flits up to Marco’s, his smile is smile is soft, tender in nature. Why does he care? He literally met me yesterday, why would anyone care about the emotions of some stranger?

He lets out a content sigh before nodding at me and continuing our walk. “I don’t know what made you think that, and you don’t have to tell me now, or ever if you don’t want to, but rest assured that you are not that unlikable, Jean. You’re enjoyable to be around, so don’t worry yourself.”

The weight is trickling off my shoulders, it doesn’t happen all at once, but the burden is being relieved. I let out a breath, a faint grin ghost my lips. “Yeah, but what if I do something stupid?” I have to at least ask that, have some idea of what will happen when I fuck up.

“Then things will be fixed and life continues on. I do dumb things too but the world does not crash around me.” His words are encouraging as he leans over to bump my shoulder playfully. “Enjoy yourself, don’t fret so much, and I’m here if you ever need to talk.”

I still don’t understand why I’m worth this guy’s time, but I’ll take it. Perhaps thats another conversation for a later date. “Alright, Dr. Bodt, I’ll schedule an appointment if I need some therapy.”

He beams, his steps less measured and air brighter. “Good to know. How was quidditch with Eren?”

“It was actually pretty enjoyable, despite the fact that my ass was handed to me a wee bit. But I’m pretty sure I smell like wet dog.” 

“You do, but it’s okay if you’re a happy wet dog.”

This guy. 

We spend the next hour walking about the castle as Marco escorts me from class to class. I tell him how my one on one went and inform him I’m going to try out for the quidditch team. Marco is giddy, telling me how great it’ll when, not if, I make the team. That it’ll give me my own special thing to do, keep me occupied. He offers to help me practice in the coming weeks before try outs and I graciously accept, taking it as an opportunity to get him on a broom.

He introduces me to a few of the passing ghosts and friendly paintings on our journey, telling me who I can go to for help and who to steer clear of. Peeves, a poltergeist, would apparently not be my cup of tea. We talk our favorite classes and I learn his is Care of Magical Creatures, which is great because not only do we share the class, but I’m also God awful at animals. We swap war stories of exams, and apparently last year after he took his O.W.L.s, he slept for a solid fourteen hours since he stayed up for two nights studying, preceding the test. I tell him about the time I stress vomited in the middle of my History of Magic final during my first year and have never been able to eat yogurt again. 

When he drops me off at the entrance to the Gryffindor tower, he bids me goodnight and departs back down the hall with a wave and a classic Maco wink. Farlan and Tom have already tucked in for the night, but Eren is propped against his headboard with a book in his lap. He looks up at me, smirk on his face before dropping his gaze back to the pages before him. 

“You’re lucky I saved you some hot water” he says, licking his finger before flipping the page. “I would also expect to be sore tomorrow, I can already feel it coming.” Eren stretches his arms out above his head and his back gives a sickening pop.

I groan, shuffling over to my dresser and pulling out a pair of pyjamas before retreating to a tub of hot water, hoping too sooth as much ache as I can before it all settles in. When I emerge from the steam filled bathroom, Eren has drawn his curtains and I eagerly do the same. My head hits the pillow and the lights are out, an unfamiliar smile still hovering on my lips.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! This will be my first ever multi-fanfic, so bear with me. I'm always open for comments and critiques; you can find me on tumblr: http://howlscastl3.tumblr.com/ and I'll track the tag fic: TofN  
> Thanks, and enjoy!
> 
> 8Track for this fic: http://8tracks.com/princessmarco/time-of-night


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything is so nice and happy for Jean and I am so ready to ruin it :^)
> 
> Anyway, sorry for being a lazy ass, you'll find that I suck at times. Here are the songs that Marco plays in this chapter for your enjoyment: 
> 
> 1.) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0d3FwvyYWKU
> 
> 2.) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_6Apd7fyzrY
> 
> but yeah, I shall resolve myself to stop procrastinating so much

My first week of school goes swimmingly, to say the least. I can hear Babel playing in my subconscious throughout the week; my life is in constant motion, I am perpetually turning, bounding after Marco or Eren towards something new, a miniature adventure amongst the castle and it’s grounds. The scenery is a blur, a mix of watercolors painting the background, the sounds of laughter, chatter, and hushed tones become the score of my life. My calf muscles sear in the evenings as I clamber up the spiral staircase to my dorm, Eren tailing me and groaning the whole way. I sleep like a rock every night and wake up easier than I have in a long time.

Tuesday afternoon, Marco and I have Care of Magical Creatures together. I am dead awful at animals, but he seems to have a knack for them. Hanji is their usual bright and boisterous self, constantly chattering about how exciting this course is going to be. Our first day is fairly simple, enjoying the clear skies and playing in the grass with a little group of Jarveys. The overgrown ferrets spit out sassy and curt remarks to the rest of the class, but roll over and demand attention from Marco. He gladly gives in of course. We sit shoulder to shoulder, our legs crossed in front of us, absently listening to Eren complaining about the bites on his fingers.

“They’re just too cute” he coo’s to one particular ornery Jarvey, scratching away at its belly. “I dunno how you all can’t like them, they just need a gentle hand and someone with a good sense of humor.” Marco looks like he’s on the verge of stealing one and taking it home with him as he rests his chin on his palm, letting out a content sigh.

I lean back on my hands, staring up at the passing clouds, begging for the last remains of sun light to rain down upon this pale face and make me not translucent. “They are cute, but I don’t think they’re the people type. I mean look at Eren, he even tried to give them treats and they still bit him” I offer, squinting back at Marco. “Come to think of it, I don’t think anything likes Eren.” I grin at the angry grumble I receive from a simmering Jäger, who’s wrapping bandaids around his fingers, and the elbow in the ribs I receive.

“Oh be nice, Jean. You said you weren't good with animals either” Marco chides, a scowl surfacing on his expression.

“Yes, I know this. That is why I don’t mess with animals.”

“Too bad messing with them is part of the assignment, have fun,” Marco says a little too cheerfully before I feel a ball of cursing fur dropped onto my lap.

— — —

Wednesday is exhausting, despite the fact that my first class isn’t till second period. I don’t have any classes with Marco, but Eren and I start our day with Professor Moblit’s Herbology class, trying to extract the juice from a Venomous Tentacula plant. We didn’t get much, most of the class time was spent trying to keep vines from wrapping around Eren’s arms and him swearing loudly every time a fang or spike grazed him.

Third period goes a lot better, as I find myself absorbed in Professor Pixis’s Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson. We’re introduced into nonverbal spells, something I’ve always been curious about. Near the end of the lesson, when we are asked to try and light a candle without saying the incantation, Eren nearly goes purple in effort. I, as expected, don’t succeed, but I do mark the chapter in my book on the subject, making a mental note that I should read it tonight before bed.

Eren and I have no more classes for the day and take to the pitch as soon as we can. Tryouts are on the last Saturday in September so we have about three weeks before Mikasa decides our fates.

“Marco offered to help us some time if we need him,” I tell Eren as I pull off my hoodie, letting it fall to the ground somewhere bellow us. We’re up by the goals, taking a break from practice and just goofing off, flying figure eights. Some kids from Ravenclaw have called dibs on the opposite side of the field, and are doing a terrible job of defending the goals.

“But Marco doesn’t fly” Eren commented absently, climbing into one of the rings, letting his broom hover in front of him.

“I assume he would be helping from the ground, but I’m actually hoping to change that,” I tell him, remembering Marco’s agreement. I bring my shirt up to wipe the sweat that’s collected on my forehead and return to find Eren staring at me, eyebrows quirked.

“Good luck with that, the kid cried when he had to fly during his first year. I don’t think it’s gotten any better either” Eren scoffed, nudging his broom with the toe of his shoe.

I shrug, if I don’t get him off the ground, darn, if I do, yay, there isn’t much riding on getting Marco Bodt into the sky. Though I will say I do want to hear him play the piano; Marco know’s my talent, what I love and enjoy, but I haven’t seen his yet. I want to watch him do his thing, what makes him happy, because a happy Marco is an enjoyable one, and as someone who I think will be one of my best friends, I want him happy. That's what friends are supposed to do, right? Make sure your bro is happy and healthy. It’s like having a puppy, but in human form.

Eren and I climb back to the castle as the sun sets over the grounds; there’s a wall of clouds rolling over us, threatening to downpour at any moment as we climb the steps of the Entrance Hall. We’re too tired to change and put our brooms away before dinner, so we clamber into the Great Hall, sweaty and looking worse for wear. Our muscles groan as we slump down in our seats with the rest of the Gryffindors, Mikasa looking a little unpleased at our state.

“You two do plan on taking a break this weekend, right? You don’t need to burn yourselves out before tryouts” she said uneasily. “Eren, I don’t want you pushing-“

“I’m fine, I’m going to be fine. We’re gonna take a break, trust me, I know my limits. Besides, when do you plan on getting back onto the field?” Eren groaned as he flopped his head down to rest on the cool table, making a noise of protest as he reached to grab his goblet.

“Monday, probably. I just needed to get started on the year first before I started thinking about Quidditch. Mind if I join you and Jean?” She asked.

Eren and I hum a note affirmation from our slumped heaps at the Gryffindor table. I feel someone poke me between the shoulder blades and look up at Eren, expecting to see him looking back at me, but his head still rests on the place before him.

I whip my head around to see who’s trying to either gain my attention or irritate me, and find a smug looking, freckled Hufflepuff looking at me from over his shoulder as he takes his own seat with Connie and Sasha.

Marco gives me a tiny wave and warm smile; I return it, watching him as I let my head fall back onto my arms.

— — —

I develop a very deep love/hate relationship with Thursdays. I wake at the ass-crack of dawn to go to one of the worst classes ever required.

I know from the beginning that I will most likely fail History of Magic. Not only is it repulsively boring, but we also have to share it with the Slytherins, who don’t seem too keen on taking the class seriously. I mean, I don’t either, but at least I'm not bewitching the chalk to draw inappropriate things on the board behind Professor Oulo.

I am soon reminded that Thursdays aren’t all bad. I run into Marco in the Entrance Hall on his way out to Herbology, thankful for his presence that typically acts a boost to my mood. I walk with him down the steps, and out onto the lawn in the direction of the greenhouses, chatting aimlessly.

Marco must be a morning person because his smile doesn’t falter when I tell him what the lesson is for this week, that or he’s some plant God that knows he can handle anything. We part at the entrance of the Greenhouse Six, and I happily make the trek back to the castle in better spirits, despite the homework that awaits me.

I don’t have anything to do till the late 9:00 class for astronomy, so I decide to actually get some work done with Eren in the Gryffindor common room. We set up camp on the plush red sofa in front of the fireplace, spreading out our work on the floor and coffee table before us.

I lounge back on the arm of the couch, busy with the chapter on nonverbal spells, occasionally scribbling down things on the parchment that is supposed to be my essay. Eren sits at the opposite end, hunched over his transfiguration book, trying to get down the bird conjuring charm, and periodically batting away my feet that keep trying to poke him in the arm pit.

“Avis” Eren mutters for the 27th time, producing a few more feathers than the previous attempts. His face lights up at the sign of progress before glancing back down at the open book in his lap. “Maybe my wand movement is off? The incantation isn’t that hard.”

“Maybe you’re just dumb,” I say flatly from behind my book. I feel a sharp smack on my knee as Eren brings the butt of his wand down on my patella. Unfortunately for him, this only makes me jerk my leg and kick him in the ribs. Though when he turns back to his work, I rub at the soreness gingerly.

“The book says there’s supposed to be a sound like a gunshot” Eren says, swiping the feathers aside to join the growing pile on the floor. “All I’m getting it a pop though.”

“Like I said, maybe you-“

“Shut up.”

Outside the paned windows of the common room, the storm clouds collect over the castle grounds. Thunder cracks in the distance as a light drizzle begins to patter on the window. Birds could be seen retreating to the safety of the Owlery, and the placid surface of the Black Lake begins to ripple.

Nodding towards the storm brewing outside, I ask “So uh if this continues, do you think they would cancel Astronomy?”

“Probably not” Eren mumbles, “Nile would most likely just take the lesson inside if it doesn’t let up. I also assume you don’t want to fly in this weather?”

“Not really, no. I’d rather get work done that go get pneumonia” I say, closing _Confronting the Faceless_ and scribbling my name down at the top of my ‘essay’.

Just then, a small white cat with a few patches of black and orange and a bobtail skirts around the sofa, mewing at Eren. The feline paces back and forth in front of him, demanding his attention.

Eren sits down his book and wand on the table in front of him before picking the cat up and plopping it down in his lap with a sigh. “Hello to you too, Cat,” he says, scratching at its chin. “Mikasa been ignoring you? I bet, I dunno why she just doesn’t give you to Armin.”

I sit up and reach out my hand, and the cat eagerly bounds over to rub its cheek against my palm. “Who’s this?” I ask, running my fingers over the soft fur. I am starting to miss having a cat.

“This is Cat, Mikasa had no clue what to name her so she just named her Cat. Armin is in love with her, but his grandpa is allergic to cats so he can’t have one. Instead he just aggressively babies her whenever he comes over. What time is it, by the way?”

I peer up at the clock on the wall behind us, just a few minutes until the end of third period. “Time to get lunch,” I say, patting the cat on the head before hauling myself to my feet. I stretch out my back, cringing at the pops. God I hate that sound.

Eren and I head down to the Great Hall for lunch, the stone floors dotted with the wet footprints of students. A particular wet student sits at the Gryffindor table, back to the warm fireplace with his robes folded neatly next to the hearth.

Marco frowns at his cup, chin resting on the dining table. His eyes follow a droplet of water that falls from his bangs. He huffs as he carts his hand through his damp hair, before turning to looking up and meet my eyes.

I chuckle at his pout and take the seat next to him, enjoying the warmth of the flames on my back. “Someone looks a little down.” I nudge his shoulder with my own, satisfied with the faint smile that comes to his lips.

“I am not a rainy weather person. Especially when it’s cold and thundering,” he says, flicking at his plate as lunch is served.

Food makes Marco’s mood a little better, but I’m sure that’s true for most people. We talk about how his Herbology lesson went better than mine, and how I was actually productive for once. “Except no quidditch today, and that sucks,” I say glumly, poking at a stray tomato.

“Hey, if things clear up this weekend, I can help you out with quidditch practice” he chirps.

“Yeah, and I can get you on a broom.”

His smile falters but doesn’t fade. “Uh, okay. Yeah, we can do that.”

“Do you trust me when I say I will not let you fall to your death?”

“Y-yeah” he gulps. I see uncertainty on Marco’s face for the first time; all I’ve ever seen him express is confidence and self-assurance. It’s odd, and I don’t like it.

“Then you’ll be fine!” I reassure him.

 

It doesn’t clear up, not in the slightest. The oncoming autumn rain hammers against the castle’s walls, the fireplaces are all ablaze, and the only thing keeping darkness at bay within the corridors are the lit torches that hang from the walls.

Marco and I meet down in the Great Hall with the rest of the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors a little past a quarter to nine. Most of the students crowd under the flames, chatting amongst themselves. Freckles and I stand elbow to elbow, the chill making his teeth chatter. “I really miss insulated walls and furnaces,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Just wait, the castle will be warm enough soon and we won't worry about having to remove some of your fingers and toes” I tell him as a tall, black-haired man with a pre-pubescent looking mustache emerges from a chamber off the Great Hall, waving us in.

“You are not cutting off any parts of my body, no matter how dead they are,” Marco says, not leaving my side as we walk with the rest of the heard.

“Do you not believe in my surgical skills? I know how to make a tourniquet, and a general idea of how to cauterize a wound.” I honestly don’t think I would be able to do either, but hey, it’s better than not knowing how to do anything.

“Yeah, but can you do all of that while I sob and most likely vomit on you is the real question.”

Fair enough. “Probably not, I faint at just the sight of needles so you would be screwed, but I could make your death calm and peaceful.” That’s a lie, I’d probably make it worse to be honest.

We squeeze into the small classroom and take a table near the back, hauling our thick, leather bound books on to the space in front of us. As the scraping of chairs and shuffling of feet faded, class begins. And Marco and I do absolutely nothing.

To be fair, the class was fairly easy. It was just an introduction to Saturn’s storm cell, which gave Marco and I the perfect opportunity to ignore the entire lesson. We flip our pages with everyone else to give the illusion that we’re paying attention, but in reality we just sat and giggled the entire time.

I discover that when Marco is tired, he get’s a little slap-happy.

He stares at me owlishly, expression as calm as a Hindu cow. “I am the village elder” he mutters, before returning to his suppressed snickering.

I don’t know what’s wrong with this kid. “That makes zero sense, you are sixteen. We are also not in a village, and you need to come back down to earth, buddy.”

His hand suddenly comes up to cart his fingertips through my hair, his head tilts and I’m given the look of a confused puppy. “Is your hair like this naturally or do you mess with it?”

Thank whoever is there that the lights are dim near the back, because my cheeks flair as I splutter. “W-what does that even mean, I- yeah, it’s like this way naturally.” I cross my arms in front of me, letting my head fall forward to rest on them, staring at the doofus next to me.

He gives an exaggerated yawn before joining me with a groan. “I need to go to bed earlier on Wednesdays, so I won’t be so exhausted on Thursday” he whimpers.

When the lesson ends, I bid Marco a good night and welcome my bed with gusto, even the cracking thunder can’t keep me from sleep.

— — —

Friday brings clear skies and anticipation. The Great Hall buzzes with energy during breakfast, first years talk animatedly about their first week of wizarding school while the seventh years reminisce. My day is fairly easy, I don’t have a first period so I get to eat with the gang before climbing back up my room to laze around and take all the hot water from Eren.

Second period is Alchemy with the Ravenclaws, taught by Professor Gunther. He isn’t too bad, but he could definitely find a less unusual hair cut. Eren, Armin, Historia, and I all sit together, and I happily find that the two additions are pretty enjoyable to be around. I sit between Armin and Historia as they exuberantly help me with our work on transmutation. Both are wickedly smart and eager to help, so I don’t think this class could go too bad.

I don’t have anything until fourth, and meet Marco in the west wing to walk with him to Defense Against the Dark Arts.

“Sooo, Marco, do you have anything to do on this fine day?” I ask coyly as we merge with the crowd heading towards the third floor.

“Uh, I don’t think I do. I’m pretty caught up, why?” His voice is suspicious as we climb the stairs, his brow knitted as his eyes watch me.

“Well, since it’s nice and all out, I was wondering if you wanted to come help with quidditch practice. I think Eren is bailing on me because he still hasn’t made a dent in any of his essays, and I could use the help. Having company is also enjoyable” I add.

“Yeah, of course!” he chirps. “Alright, well, I’ll see you at lunch, Jean.” And with a small wave and a smile he disappears into the classroom.

I thought I was doing pretty well this week with Thomas until lunch rolled around that is. I hadn’t received a single shit-eating glare from him all week, and the more time went on the more he seemed to be willing to hold conversations with the group. But as I sit down across from Marco, I realize that today is different. Thomas doesn’t look like he’ll be socializing today, just brooding in his seat at Marco’s hip. I carry on normally, chatting with Mikasa about quidditch plays and what to expect from the other teams this year. I don’t let Thomas's occasional flitting glances bother me, if he wants to sit with a stick in his ass, so be it.

As Mikasa tells me about Ravenclaw’s beaters, I catch a small snippet of Marco and his mopey boyfriend’s conversation.

“Why can’t you just stay in tonight? We can have a quiet night in the Prefect’s lounge” Thomas whines.

“Because I already promised Jean I’d help him with quidditch, and we always have quiet nights. It isn’t like we never have them, you will live” Marco says, I can tell he’s trying to keep his voice soothing, but one can only handle so much sulking.

Grump-butt doesn’t look pleased in the slightest. “You don’t even like quidditch, but whatever,” he says curtly, stabbing at an undeserving baked potato.

Marco just sighs and turns back to his food in silence, his buoyant spirit looking a little deflated.

This asshole.

The more I’m around Thomas, the less I like him. And I didn’t even like him to begin with. I remind myself to not get involved, that this isn’t my business and Marco is a big boy, he can work things out on his own. But part of me want’s to let him know that I’m there for him, I want to be a good friend, I owe it to him, and if that means making sure Thomas doesn’t make him anything but happy, then I’ll do it.

The two don’t even say goodbye to each other as we all disperse in the Entrance Hall. Thomas just heads off with his group of Ravenclaws, leaving Marco to stare down at his shoes, hands clasped tightly over the straps on his back pack, expression glum.

I gotta help that, the poor guy looks like a baby animal that’s just been kicked. “Hey, if you need to go take care of things, we can practice some other time.” I keep my voice gentle as I sidle up to him, trying to read his expression.

“No, he’ll be fine. I already promised you, and it isn’t like we don’t ever spend time in the status quo. He’s just gotta get over me having commitments to other people” Marco sighs, looking up to meet my gaze. He gives me a thin smile before eagerly changing the subject. “So when and where to want to meet after fourth period? Do I have to bring anything?”

I shake my head with a weak chuckle, “Just yourself. I'd put on some comfortable clothing if I were you, I would not recommend wearing your uniform. Just meet me at the pitch after fourth period. I’ll have to run up and get my broom, but I’ll be quick.”

“Alright, I’ll see you in a bit, yeah?” He said, giving me a small wave before retreating to the steps down to the Hufflepuff dormitory.

“Yeah,” I say, my shoulders falling with a heavy sigh.

Muggle Studies is boring and uneventful, I spend most of my time staring out the window and counting down the minutes till I’m released for the weekend, to go hang out with Marco. When the bell tower chimes, I'm up and out of my seat before Nanaba can even remind me of the homework I have.

Up in the dorm, I remind Eren that he’s a loser for skipping out on me, but I’m excited to just have some one on one time with the saint. I throw on an old baseball tee, grass stained jeans, and my converse. Snatching up my broom from the end of my bed, I rush out of the dormitory door and down the spiraling staircase. The Fat Lady yells at my for being ‘too aggressive’ with the door and to stop slamming it or she won’t let me in.

 

There are places in the grass that still sink under your feet or squish with left over rain water, but the skies are clear and the air is warm, and that’s good enough for me. I find Marco sitting up in the stands, swinging his legs back and forth, humming a nameless tune. He’s swapped out his uniform for a real-men-admit-they-love-cats sweater. What a dork. But he looks to be in a better mood and that’s all that matters. I wave him down and go to grab a quaffle from the locker room.

Marco meets me out on the grass, rocking back and forth on his heels. “So, how may I be of assistance?” He asks, tugging at the hems of his sleeves.

“Well, you can first help by taking this, and going up onto one of the towers and tossing it any which way your heart desires. Right now, I need to work on reaction time with catching the damn thing.” I hand over the red ball and pluck my broom from where it lays at my heels.

“Ey ey, Captain” he salutes before jogging back towards the stands. He opts to sit in one of the Hufflepuff towers near the west end of the pitch next to the goals. Once I see him poke his head out over the railing, I take to the sky.

We start out slow, I’m only a few feet from him as we toss the ball back and forth. Marco actually has some impressive hand-eye coordination, and his accuracy isn’t that bad. I can tell he’s hesitant, not wanting to throw too hard or too far out of my reach. He’s being gentle, and as much as I appreciate it, gentle isn’t going to get me on the team.

I chuck the ball back at his chest, probably a little rougher than necessary by the oomf he gives. “Marco, you gotta put some…I dunno, vigor in it. Harder, more sporadic, yeah?”

And with that, he shrugs and drops the ball over the side. “Okie dokie.”

All I can do is laugh and dive after the ball. I didn’t predict it, I’ll give him that, but I finally feel the fear that I might not be able to catch the ball, and that’s what drives me. It’s simple, and can be easily taught, just put value on the ball and it suddenly pushes you to play harder, go faster. Letting it fall or be caught by the other team means failure, and that isn’t acceptable. Relief comes when I feel it fall into my fingertips. I toss it up to Marco and fly up to meet his smug grin.

“That good?” He asks hands resting on his hips.

“You little shit” I laugh, chucking the quaffle at him.

He catches it, of course, but doesn’t have it long before snapping it back at me, sending the ball whistling past my head.

I like this game we play, and I can tell Marco does too, because the more we play the more ridiculous his throws get, and he’s doubled over with laughter most of the time now as I attempt to grab the ball out of the air. I only crash a few times, adding to the grass stains on my pants. I just barely miss running into one of the goals for a few of the catches, but what doesn’t kill me makes me wish I wasn’t so out of shape. As our chest’s heave and arms weaken, our aim gets worse and Marco is missing more and more. I realize this when he takes a quaffle to the face.

Marco falls hard on his ass, hands flying up to cup his nose. I hardly hear him snicker over my shrieking; I scramble over the railing letting my broom fall to the ground bellow me, spitting out every apology and swear I know.

“Oh mon Dieu, Marco I am so sorry. Avez-vous besoin d’aller- fuck I mean do you need to go to the nurse?" I ramble, panic swelling in my chest that I've actually hurt the guy. "God this is all my fau-…..a-are you giggling?”

His hands slide away from his face, his laughter weak as blood sinks down his face and drips from his chin. His nose doesn’t look broken, but it is starting to swell. “Jean, I’m fine, honestly. It was just an accident, don’t worry yourself, It’s just a nose bleed," he grabs at my arm and I help him get to his feet, he bends over the railing to keep his shirt from getting any more blood on it, spitting out what’s trickled down the back of his throat. “Wow, that was exciting,” he says, voice muffled.

“You…you aren’t mad?” I am Jack’s confused psyche.

“No of course not, a little dizzy, but I’m not upset. I’ve actually been having a lot of fun, this can’t even rain on my parade. Stuff happens, it isn't your fault.” His smile wide, bottom lip blood stained.

I let out a shaky laugh and sit back on the benches, calming myself. “Good to know, mind if we call it a day?” I lie back on the seat, letting my head thump against the wood and clasp my hands over my chest. I can finally catch my breath in the fleeting warmth of summer.

The sky takes on a pink hue as sunset grows imminent, I let my eyes fall shut as Marco and I sit in silence. I assume the bleeding has stopped since he walks over to join me on the bench. I hear the wood creak and feel his hair ruffle against mine.

“Mind if I join you, Sleeping Beauty?” Marco lays opposite of me, the crown of his head bumping mine as he gets comfortable. 

“Since when does Prince Phillip take a nap with Sleeping Beauty?” I ask with a yawn. I become strangely aware of how nice Marco smells, like sandalwood and something that I can only describe as warmth, or maybe it’s just the contrast of his shampoo and my sweat, but I find it rather relaxing.

“Since when do women turn into dragons from hell? Those are the questions that need asking” he states matter-of-factly. His sigh is content and light, there is an air of calmness that settles over the both of us.

The sun is sinking below the horizon, the nocturnal birds are starting to venture out into the open while the diurnal ones return home to tuck in for the night. My muscles are beginning to ache, I wonder if it’s reasonable to ask Marco to carry me back to the castle, or just drag me. Because I really don’t feel like walking. I am at peace with the world; I don’t know if I would wish to stay here for millennia, but I would definitely stay for a while. Marco’s breathing is soft and even, and for a while I try to match it, but he always seems to be one step ahead.

I think about this week, my classes, my new home, and that word doesn’t seem so alien now. I know it’s only been a few days, but there is routine. There are constants and very little variables; I can always wake up and find Reiner babying Bert at breakfast, trying to get him to eat something despite Bert continuously reminding him that he isn’t a breakfast person. Ymir will always pinch Historia’s bum when she thinks we aren’t looking or saying goodnight before they leave for their dorms, and Armin will always seem to (scarily) know what Eren is thinking or about to say, he will always predict every move he makes. This is just what I need, a place with no uncertainty. They let me join their antics, and I meshed with ease. This is going to be home, this is going to be where I am comfortable and stop doubting myself. I may not fully be there now, but I feel like I finally have a chance to feel that now, here, in this place.

And then there’s Marco. I have a feeling he’s going to be pretty special. You ever get those gut feelings where you know from the beginning the way something is gonna turn out? I just know that with him. He knows’s how to work with people, how to build them up. He is endlessly gracious, and maybe I don’t deserve that, but he’s still willing to give. I may not be able to offer him much, I’m only good for some sassy comments and help in potions, but for him that seems to be enough. God do I hope this works, I just need someone. I can’t go at this alone, and if he’s willing, I would definitely choose Marco to take along on an adventure.

The low gurgling of Marco’s stomach break the silence and my lips crack into a smile. “You hungry there, Phillip?” I whisper.

“You could say that” he chuckles. Off in the distance, the bell tower chimes the signal for dinner. Marco eagerly gets to his feet, blood still caked around his nose and red streaks stained on his chin. “C’mon Princess, time to go.”

I groan, reluctant to leave the peace of the empty quidditch pitch, “Alright, let's go feed you.” My body protests any movement, but some food does sound nice right now. We head down to the green to pick up my stuff and put the quaffle away before climbing back up to the castle.

“What am I gonna tell everyone when they ask about the blood?” Marco inquires, inspecting his shirt. There’s a small pool of blood stains around the collar and some around the hem of his sleeves.

“Tell them you just got hit” I shrug, hitching my broom up over my shoulder.

“Nah, that’s not nearly as cool.”

 

When we get to the Great Hall, he’s immediately flooded with questions and motherly attention as we sit down at the Gryffindor table, waiting for everyone to pile it.

He tells them he fought off a Cerberus.

“Yeah, the thing was like twenty-three feet tall and kept trying to pick a fight with me because of my shirt” he laughs, letting Historia clean him up with a wet napkin.

“Uh huh, I bet. You are literally the worst liar Marco, what really happened?” Ymir continues, leaning against the table and watching him closely. I get the sense that she’s actually being really protective of him, like she needs a name of who to punch. I really hope she doesn’t punch me.

“It was just an accident, Jean and I were just tossing a ball back and forth and I took my eyes off it for a moment and got hit, it isn’t like I got into a fight or anyone tried to beat me up, Mama Ymir. You can calm yourself, it isn’t a big deal” he reassured her.

She isn’t very reassured because Mama Ymir whips her head around to glare at me. “Is this true, Kirstein? Did you hurt the baby?”

“Ymir, be nice. Accidents happen, I’m sure Jean didn’t mean to do it” Historia scolds, setting the cloth down on the table to look at the sweater. “It should be fine as long as you don’t let it sit there for too long. Soak it tonight, and if doesn’t all come up just take it to the house elves, they’ll know how to get it all out. As for your nose, it might be a little bruised or tender in the morning, but it’ll be fine soon enough.”

Mother bear backs off, and my life is spared. Until a frightening thought hits me: what if Thomas kills me? I have had such a pleasant first week, I really don’t need to die right now. That would be such a bummer.

Everyone begins to take their seats and Marco, Ymir, and Historia all go off to their respective tables and I’m left with a bantering Mikasa and Eren. I don’t pay them much attention, as it’s really just Mikasa just telling him that he should care about his other classes as much as he cares about potions while I mentally write my will. I have to put my faith in Marco that he’ll word it right and maybe Thomas will understand.

I don’t eat much, I’m tired more than I am hungry and crave my bed above all other things. I spend most of dinner staring at my plate or people watching; I find Thomas in the crowd and I don’t think he knows’s yet. Perhaps he’s still simmering over the events at lunch, who knows. I stand to leave, waving off Mikasa and Eren’s confused stares with an ‘I’m tired’ and am one of the first people to leave the Great Hall. I am in dire need of a quiet space and a hot shower right now. Just as I reach the last step of the marble staircase I feel a yank at the back of my shirt; I turn to find Thomas Wagner making an excellent impression of an angry Gollum.

“The hell did you do to my boyfriends face, Kirstein?” He spits, moving to stand on the step I’m on.

“Nothing, it was an accident. Christ, calm yourself” I grouse, pinching the bridge of my nose. I do not have the energy to deal with this, not without Marco.

“Calm myself? He has blood stains on his shirt, and last I knew he was with you. Wanna tell me something? Maybe how he got that?”

“Listen, we were just playing some game and I threw the ball too hard and he wasn’t paying attention and-“

Thomas suddenly gets a little too close for my taste, his face lingering inches from mine. “I think Marco is done helping you practice.”

“I think Marco is a big boy and make his own decisions, don’t you think?” I snap.

The tension in the hall is thick, silence hangs between us and neither of us want to break first. My stubbornness is telling me that if I leave this step, I lose. But my reason is asking why on earth would it matter to me? Thomas can go be consumed by wild boars for all I care.

“Thomas!” Marco doesn’t let either of us win.

Connie and Sasha shuffle away awkwardly to the stairs that lead down to the basement muttering back and forth.

“Ooooh, boy toy is in trouble”

“Five sickles on Jean, he looks like he knows how to kill someone.”

“…..Connie you don’t have five sickles, you still owe me from the last bet.”

Freckles is marching toward us and I take a step back to stand on the landing, ready to make a break for it if things go south. Marco catches me, however, giving me a look that informs me that I am not permitted to leave just yet.

“What the hell is going on?” He snaps, eyes darting between the two of us.

“I just wanted to know what happened to you, I saw the stains and got worried so-”

Fuck you Thomas and your ‘I’m innocent’ voice. “He wanted to tell me that you’re done practicing with me unless that is his assumption and not your own choice” I hiss.

“What? No, of course, I’m not.” His voice is sincere as he looks up at me, expression softening before turning back to his boyfriend. “Thomas, you just can do that. I- I don't even know why….go, we’ll talk about this later.”

Sideburns leaves for Ravenclaw Tower with a final glare, not bothering to put up a fight. I just wanna take a shower and go to bed at this point, is that too much to ask for? Marco grabs at my sleeve, pulling me down to his step with a frown.

“I’m sorry, I promise I’ll tell him to knock it off. I don’t get where he would think-“

“Marco, you are fine. This is not your fault, I understand. And if you feel like you can’t go down and practice with me, I get that too, yeah?”

“No, I want to. I really enjoyed hanging out with you, it isn’t stressful and you’re fun to be around. I was actually gonna ask if you were up for it again tomorrow too.” He goes sheepish, of all times.

“Uh, yeah. Sure, I didn’t have anything else planned so I’m alright with that.” I try to make that come off as sincere as possible, given how awkward I get with flattery. I can feel the heat rise to the surface of my cheeks as I begin to fidget. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? Goodnight Marco.”

Despite the event that just took place, Marco looks relieved and delighted as he gives a feeble wave. “Goodnight Jean” he returns before following after Connie and Sasha.

Up in Gryffindor tower, I savor the uninterrupted silence. I don’t notice I’m dozing off until Eren is pounding on the door, notifying me that it is time for me to get out and that he will soon be kicking my ass. I arm myself with a wet towel in the case that he does.

“I swear, if I have to shower in cold water, you’ll wake up to find you and your mattress in the middle of the black lake” he growls, snapping the door shut behind him.

“This isn’t the Parent Trap, Eren!” I shout from behind the safety of my curtains. The sound of running water and a crackling fire lull me to sleep. But for the first time in a while, it isn’t dreamless.

— — —

My tiny fingers grip at his hand mercilessly, holding onto him like a prayer, begging to keep me from getting lost in the dark crowd of towering people. The lights flash above us, penetrating the black sky, showing the only sign of life. The sea of people stands in silence, quieter than I remember. I remember it was once a roar in my ears, now I can hear a pin drop on the dusty ground beneath me.

I don’t watch the fireworks, my face isn’t upturned towards the show, but to his face. I know I haven’t seen him in a long time, and who know’s when I’ll get to spend this much time with him next, so I just watch. He notices my staring and grins down at me, his feature lit by the dim sparks. “Voulez vous lever sur mes épaules, Jean?” _Do you want to get on my shoulders, Jean?_ I shake my head, knowing that I would to have to trade my view of him for a view of the show, and the former is my priority right now.

His eyes look heavy and tired, they’re framed by crows feet, something you wouldn’t expect from someone this young. But stress has worn him, his palms are rough and calloused, yet their touch is gentle and kind. His back is stiff as he stands like a soldier; years of training has taught him to naturally stand at attention, it’s easier that way. It starts slowly, somewhere off in the distance. It’s muddled by white noise, the words indistinct. It doesn’t set off any red flags, not until it grows sharper, thundering through the heavens. With every booming note, the white noise grows, hissing in my ears.

I want to leave, this isn’t fun anymore. The lights above grow brighter and brighter, white light consuming everything in its wake. It sinks down into the crowd, taking him from me. He fades slowly, dropping my hand. And I am left in the deafening symphony.

My eyes snap open, the dim glow of the fire faintly illuminating the crimson curtains of my bed. The sheets stick to me, my bangs clinging with cold sweat. I reach out a shaking hand to pull back the veil far enough to get a glimpse of my window. It’s still dark out, so morning must be far off.

“It’s okay” I breathe, turning onto my side. I clench the blankets in an effort to calm myself, but the subtle shivering continues. “I’m alright” I repeat to myself, begging for sleep to return. I am too exhausted to not get a full night’s rest, and if tomorrow is going to be busy too, then I can’t afford to stay awake. “You’re alright, Jean. You’re alright” I think until my mind becomes a broken record. I drift off into unconsciousness eventually, yet the uneasy feeling I have doesn’t seem to want to leave.

— — —

“JEAN, GET UP. YOU ARE GOING TO MISS BREAKFAST.”

Fuck off Eren, since when are you my designated alarm. And don’t you ever throw your grody pillow at me ever again.

I don’t tell him this, of course, all I know how to do right now is make indistinct grumbling sounds that should indicate to him that I am not in the mood to be awake right now. He closes the door behind himself and I reluctantly crawl out of the warmth of my four poster bed and find it’s a quarter past nine; I still have time to go eat if I hurry. I kick away Eren’s pillow and gather my clothes for the day. I just choose whatever shirt I have at the top of my dresser and a pair of jeans I wouldn’t mind getting dirty.

Down in the Great Hall, everyone’s all started on breakfast at the Hufflepuff table this morning. I take the seat next to Connie, returning everyone’s ‘good mornings’ before enjoying the glory that is french toast.

“Who’s Mumford and Sons?” Sasha chirps, glancing over at my shirt.

“Are they a group of horses?” Connie interjects so eloquently, mouth full of eggs.

“Yeah, Jean’s the founding member” Eren teases.

I look down and find that I’ve thrown on my Sigh No More shirt, which indeed displays a group of horses. “No, they’re a band. And I am not the founding member since I am not a horse” I say sternly.

“I dunno, you’re sporting quite the mane today. You sure you aren’t like one-sixteenth Friesian?” He sniggers.

“I am absolutely positive that there are not equines in my family history though yours is a little questionable. Looks like some troll snuck in there or somethin’” I say smartly behind my goblet.

Eren only laughs, I think there's a silent agreement that we can poke fun at each other as long as it doesn’t go too far.

My morning turns around for the better with the occurrences of last night forgotten. The table is light and refreshing, everyone discusses their weekend plans except for one person. Marco is quiet and aloof, he avoids eye contact and conversation during most of lunch. I note the absence of Thomas and wonder if the two have talked things out yet.

When breakfast is finished and everyone begins to disperse, I catch him by the elbow at the stairs that lead down to Hufflepuff house. “Hey, Marco, are you uh- are you okay man? You seemed kinda down this morning. Is everything alright?”

He whips around to face me and I catch the look of relief that suddenly floods his face. “Oh, hey. Yeah, I mean, things could be better but I-“

“You wanna go for a walk? It’s nice out” I interject.

I know how to listen to other people, I’m good at being on the receiving end of an emotional conversation. It may be difficult for me to spill my own, but God do I know how to listen too people. My mom and I would sit at the dinner table on bad days and we’d split a tin of Calissons as she would spill everything that was building up. She’s the type to bottle everything up until she can’t handle it anymore, and I unfortunately am the same way, but I can definitely go longer than her when it comes to opening the dam. And if I’m going to be a good friend to Marco, now’s my chance.

“I- yeah sure, okay,” he says breathlessly. He climbs back up the few steps, joining me at my side as we walk out the great oak doors of the Entrance Hall.

— — —

We walk in a comfortable silence down towards the edge of the Black Lake, Marco matching his steps with my own. Out on the water, the surface is placid besides the occasional ripple from a fish or the Giant Squid. I stop at the point where lapping waves meet fine gravel, Marco sitting in the grass a few feet behind me.

“Wanna talk about it?” I ask, bending down to pick up a rock before chucking it into the water with a clunk.

“Not really, but I have a feeling you’re gonna make me” he says feebly.

“You know me so well.” I bend down the gather a small collection of suitable rocks, glancing back at Marco when there’s a beat of silence. “Well, go on.”

His laugh is weak as he flops back in the grass, taking a deep breath before he starts, a mile a minute. “I talked to Thomas this morning about what happened last night and I don’t know what to do. He said he’s been moody this week because he just wants to spend time with me, but he feels like I don’t want to. Which isn’t true at all!” he yells, flourishing his hands in the air above him.  
“It’s just, this is my sixth year, I don’t have to worry about O.W.L.s and I don’t have to start worrying about N.E.W.T.s till later, and I just want to enjoy this year with my friends because last year all I did was worry about testing and study with him because he had just gone through it and offered help and maybe he’s just used to having a lot of time with me but-“ he gasps, letting his arms flop out beside him.  
“But he just can control what I do and who I spend my time with” his voice slows, contemplating what to say next. “I just want him to be happy, but I want to spend time with my friends.” His hands move to cover his face, muffling his groan “I don’t know what to do, Jean.”

I’ve only gone through two rocks, and I take a second to register everything he’s just gone through. As I think about what to say, I toss a few more before turning to sit next to him. “You are in a pickle my friend,” I say, handing him a few of my stones. “I think if he truly cared about your wishes to spend time with your friends, he would understand. That isn’t to say that he doesn’t care, it’s just a matter of what he places above what.”

Marco chucks all of his rocks into the water without even looking. “What does that even mean?” He says flatly.

I sigh and give him a few more of mine, flicking at the back of his hand when he moves to throw them all again. “It means, him placing your relationship in terms of spending time together above you spending time with your friends shouldn't be necessarily seen as selfish or that he doesn’t take into consideration your feelings, but that he just cares in a different way. Maybe you two just need to find different ways to care. Spending time with him and others isn't mutually exclusive. Just be like porqué no los dos? And hopefully he sees the light. And if he doesn’t, then like you said, we’ll deal with it when it happens.”

“What does that even mean? Why do you speak so many languages?” He groans, tossing his rocks in again.

“Would you quit that! I hand picked those rocks, they’re meant to be thrown in separately” I huff at him. “And I don’t, I just know that from the Old El Paso commercial, it means ‘why not both?’” I get to my feet, brushing off my jeans to go pick out some more stones since someone doesn’t have the decency to follow directions.

“That makes sense, I think,” he says slowly. “I just wish things we simpler, easier.” Marco brings his arm up, covering his eyes with the crook of his elbow.

I make sure to not pick out the best quality of pebbles for Marco before I rejoin him in the grass, “Give me your hand.”

“Why?” He asks, holding out his palm.

“So I can give you your rocks.” I deposit his lot in his fingers before continuing, “And this time would you please-“

He lobs them all into the lake again, a smirk growing on his lips. “Don’t tell me what to do” he teases, suppressing his laughter. “What is the point of this anyway?”

“I dunno, does everything have to have a point to it?”

There’s a beat of silence before he holds his palm out again, “I guess not…”

We sit there in silence, taking turns tossing stones. Eventually, it becomes a game of who can throw the furthest with me constantly having to retrieve more. When Marco finally gives in that I have a stronger throwing arm, he flops back in the green, tugging at my sleeve to join him.

“You can throw, but I bet I could outrun you,” he says, turning onto his side to look at me. “I’ve gotten a lot of practice with Madeline.”

“Yeah no you would definitely win. If my life depended on me running, I would die very quickly.”

“It’s okay, I would try to save you. I can’t make any guarantees, but I would try to carry you as far as I could.”

This guy. I turn onto my side to face him, propping my chin up on my palm. “Yeah, but guess what would save us both.”

“What?” He asks hesitantly.

“A broom. Speaking of which-“ I haul myself upright, offering my hand to pull him up. “I think it’s time we get you on one, lets go.”

He takes my hand, getting to his feet with a whine. “But Jean.”

“No buts, time to fly” I sing, tugging him back up to the castle by the wrist. “I’m gonna get my broom and then we’re gonna go down to the pitch and I’m gonna help you get over your fear of flying, yeah?”

“Yeah, I guess” he whimpers, dragging his feet behind me.

— — —

Marco willingly follows me down to the pitch once I’ve reassured him that I’m not expecting figure eights; all I wanna see him do is hover without having a panic attack. He shifts anxiously from foot to foot as I tell him the easiest way to get off the ground.

“I dunno what you were taught here, or what you learned on, but you can fly easy knowing my broom is probably a lot better than the ones that the school provides. What exactly did they teach you?” I ask, leaning against one of the wooden posts of the stands.

“Well, they told us just to push off, just jump and we’ll get up there. All the brooms were old and really uncomfortable though, so I don’t know how well they worked” he said, chewing at his lip.

I ponder the best way to go about this, and what would be the least scarring. “Alright, well with this guy you don’t have to do any jumping. If you stand up on your tip toes, you’ll hover, if you lean back on your heels you’ll go up. You’ll know when you’re hovering, when you feel it just pick your feet up, okay?” I hand him my broom with an encouraging smile and a nod.

He takes it timidly, face pale. “How come I’m the one doing everything? I have to fly and play the piano. What exactly are you doing?”

“Helping you get over your fear; if it sweetens the deal, I’ll even learn a song on the piano, okay?” I shoo my hands at him, trying to speed this process up.

“Alright, but can I at least hold onto to you in the case that I die?” He sticks his lip out in a pout, hitching one leg over the broom.

I shrug and move to offer him my shoulder, “Just get on your tip toes and he’ll do the rest. All you have to do it pick your feet up and them put them down and you're done.”

Marco swallows thickly as he nods, slowly inching up onto his toes. He reaches out a shaky hand to hold onto me, and I can tell when my broom starts to hover because his grip turns vise and he emits the strangest squeaking sound.

“Okay you’re good just pick your feet up and put them back down, you’re doing fine!” I cheer.

It’s quick, he’s only truly in the air for a few short seconds, white knuckling it the entire time, but it’s something. When his feet hits the ground, he lets the broom drop and is off of it in the blink of an eye, screaming the entire time. “I DID IT. OH MY GOD I DID IT AND I DIDN’T EVEN CRY.” Marco spends a few minutes basking in the glory that is solid ground, bending down to pat it a couple times and walking in circles. “I was absolutely certain I was going to die, but I lived, I have survived. This is a beautiful day, everything is wonderful and right in the world” he rambles before pausing to stare at me, a goofy smile on his face.

“You did it, Marco. You’re a new man.” I lean back against the stands, arms crossed over my chest, satisfied with my work. I am such a good therapist, why don’t more people like me? And why can't I use this stuff on my own?

Marco is running at me with laughter, throwing his arms around my neck. He holds on tight, repeating ‘thank you’ over and over.

I fluster, awkwardly patting his back as my cheeks take a pink tinge. I’m not good with affection, I’m always inept and gawky. “Hey, you said you’d be here for me, it’s only right I return the favor,” I say with a cough, shifting stiffly. “Now I get to see you play, right? And I have to learn a song?”

“That’s the deal” he says with a nod, handing me my broom. “But can we do that tomorrow? I think I’ve had enough fun for one day.” He’s breathless, but his smile radiates as he sidles up next to me.

“Of course, yeah. Let’s go get some lunch then” I say, bumping his shoulder with my own.

 

We’re early for lunch, but pleasantly surprised to find Reiner and Bert already sitting at the table. Marco and I take the seats across from them and I deposit my broom under our bench.

“What have you two been up too on this fine Saturday?” Reiner inquires, looking up from today’s paper.

I shrug, wondering if Marco wanted to be the one to bring up his recent success or not. “Just hanging out on the pitch.”

Bert stops chewing on the end of his pen to look up from his crossword, his eyebrows drawn together in confusion.

Marco chews at his lip bashfully, bringing a hand up to cart through his bangs. “I, uh, I flew today. Well, I didn’t really fly, Jean just got me on a broom and off the ground without a breakdown-“

“Marco, that’s great!” Reiner acclaims.

“Yeah, even if it’s just baby steps, they’re still steps” Bert adds with a delighted smile.

When the rest of the squad arrives, Reiner is eager to inform every one of the news. Ymir smothers her ‘baby’ until Marco is begging for oxygen and I finally receive a look of approval from mother bear. Even Annie, who’s usually quiet and mellow, gives him some encouragement.

However, when everyone is beginning to tuck in, Thomas decides that he will be joining us for this meal, taking a seat near the end next to Ymir.

“Hey Thomas, did you hear the news? Your boy’s finally not petrified of a broom” Ymir says, nudging him with her elbow.

Thomas looks down the table at Marco, his expression puzzled. “What? He’s been afraid since his first year.”

“Yeah, but Jeanbo got him on a broom!” Sasha shouts enthusiastically.

“That doesn’t make any sense, how?” Thomas’s gaze turns to me, frown forming on his lips.

I shrug awkwardly, searching for something to say that won't cause another mishap like last night. “I dunno, reassurance and pain tolerance. I think my shoulder is bruised now from how tight his grip was.”

Marco fidgets uncomfortably next to me, all he gets is a curt ‘great’ from Thomas before he resolves himself to care more about food than his boyfriend.

I lean over, dropping my voice to a whisper, “Don’t let it get to you, okay? Just talk things out tonight.”

Marco nods glumly, his shoulders falling. The table grows quieter as lunch starts, people keeping to their own small groups. I can tell he’s anxious, he bounces his knee the entire time and is constantly biting at his lip. He doesn’t eat much and I’m starting to get irritated.

Even if Thomas has a problem (yet again), the least he could do is be happy for Marco. I just hope by the end of the night, the two will have things resolved so Thomas will stop glaring at me all the time and Marco won’t have a reason to be sad.

The two leave earlier than the rest of us, and by the time dinner rolls around, they both return looking in better spirits. Before I leave for bed, Marco catches me to tell me he’ll be spending tomorrow morning with the boyfriend, but has reserved the afternoon for our music session.

I sleep easy knowing I’ve done good friend-ing today. Despite the fact that I can’t fix my own bullshit, I’m glad to know I could help someone else’s. And who knows, by the end of the year Marco could be flying with me and I might just be fixed. I know there’s a lot of work to be done, but I have the feeling Marco is the one for the job.

— — —

Sunday morning is one of those stereotypical dew-covered grass and baby fawns prancing in the meadow kind of morning. There isn’t a cloud in the sky which means I might actually be able to tan a little. Breakfast is as lively as usual, Connie and Sasha eating everything and Eren kicking me under the table for questioning his intelligence.

I let the two goonies and Eren join me on a trip to the Owlery as none of them have anything better to do than annoy me.

“Have you ever noticed Jeanbo’s lack of butt? Or is that just the pants he’s wearing?” Sasha exclaims as we cross the covered bridge.

“I dunno, but you could use some squats Jean. Bend and snap dude.” Thank you, Connie, I will keep that in mind.

Eren is strangely quiet as he keeps pace with my stride. He’s grinning, but holding back whatever he’s thinking.

“I know you have something smart to say, why am I not hearing it?” I growl.

“Because I don’t feel like being thrown off this bridge” he mumbles, keeping his giggling at bay.

We step off the bridge into the sundial garden and Eren finally spits it out. “It’s the only part of him that isn't horse-like,” he tells Connie and Sasha.

“I don’t like any of you, you are all dead to me,” I say flatly.

“Awe, c’mon Jean! You know you love us!” Sasha says, grabbing onto the back of my t-shirt.

“Yeah man, we’re too cute to hate” Connie follows, poking me in the ribs.

I make my sigh as dramatic as possible to let them know I don’t actually hate them, I never take this stuff to heart. But I am quite pleased when one of the school’s owls decides to leave a token of appreciation on Eren’s shoulder.

I send off a letter to mom with Pyro about my first week and requesting some more cookies. I ask her how her first week alone has gone and wish her well. I also ask if she’s still thinking about getting a pet to keep her company since I wouldn’t exactly enjoy coming home on break to a strange animal I didn’t know resided in our home. I’m not really a surprise’s kinda guy.

We stop by to say hello to Hanji who’s enthusiastically bathing the schools heard of Hippogriffs. They sit atop one of the 'griffs, scrubbing away at the beast's flank when we make our way through their garden.

“Good morning, Professor!” Connie and Sasha chirp as they hold out their hands for the winged creatures. “How's Sonny and Bean doing?”

“They’re excellent! Sonny is such a good momma to him and he’s such a feisty little babe. I’m thinking of bringing him into a lesson sometime just to get him used to students” They say, hopping down from the Hippogriff’s back. “What are you all up too?”

“Just wanted to say hello,” Jean says, watching Connie and Sasha carefully as they pet and coo at one of the tan colored ‘griffs.

“How wonderful, I always love having guests. Jean, how has your first week been? Enjoying Hogwarts?” Hanji asks kindly.

I nod, returning their bright smile. “A lot more than I thought I would. Things have been significantly easier than I thought it was going to be.”

“Well knock on wood, we want to keep it that way, yes?” They say with a wink.

“Yes Professor” I chuckle.

Hanji then takes the opportunity to introduce me to some members of the schools heard. Despite my lack of enthusiasm, however, they’re actually quite gentle. Bean, a little brown babe, is quick to befriend me as his mom watches over us. He’s nippy but is dog-like in behavior. Connie gets into a game of tug-of-war with him and loses miserably. When the bell tower chimes, we all bid our goodbyes and head back up to the castle.

I am pleased to find everyone in a good mood. Nothing seems out of place and a sense of calmness has finally settled amongst everyone. I head Hanji’s advice and rap my knuckles against the table just to be safe. Yet as pleasing as the simplicity of this moment may be, I’m mostly happy because after this I get to go listen to Marco play the piano. He babbles away with Armin about some prefect business until Armin has to leave for some prefectoral duties. That’s when Marco turns to meet my gaze with a gentle smile.

“You done eating?” He asks, resting his chin on his palm.

“Yeah, ready when you are,” I reply, pushing away my plate and getting up from my place at the table.

“Come along then your highness, I shall play you a song,” he says as we make our way out into the Entrance Hall. “It’s up in the fifth floor corridor, so I am saddened to inform you that you will have to walk.”

I shrug and follow at his heal, that many stairs aren't that bad. Until you reach the third floor, then you’re asking Marco to carry you.

“You should be used to this by now!” He exclaims, ignore my pleas for a lift.

“Yeah but I only have two classes a day and I don’t have to walk a lot of stairs for them, they’re only like a few floors between!” I grouse, putting on the dramatics.

“You need to calm yourself, we are almost there.”

“I can’t go on, leave me. Save yourself,” I whine, grabbing at his wrist. “I’ll never let go Jack.”

“Okay now you’re just being obnoxious,” he says, rolling his eyes.

We eventually make it to the music room, and it was worth it. The ceilings are vaulted, massive circular windows decorate the front where a black grand piano sits. Chairs and stands lay in organized rows, pictures of famous wizard musicians hang from the walls.

Marco instinctively moves to the front where the piano lies but walks past the empty bench to unlatch one of the windows, letting it swing open. “It can get a little stuffy in here,” he says simply before walking back to his instrument of choice.

I follow him towards the front, taking care to not knock over a stand or bump into anything. Marco has taken his seat on the bench and I opt to stand next to him. “What all do you know?”

“A lot, honestly. Madeline has me learn a lot of stuff that’s a little too complicated for her, but I refuse to learn how to play Wonderwall.”

I lean against the piano, noticing how his fingers lay idly on the keys, ready to play at a moments notice. “Oh come on, everyone knows that’s the first thing you’re supposed to learn.”

“Actually it’s Chopsticks, but no, not going to do that one.”

I stick my tongue out at him with a scowl before nearly biting it off as Marco makes a sudden noise of realization.

“Oh, of course, why didn’t I think of that one before!” He calls. “Okay give me one second, it’s been a while since I’ve played this one.”

Marco fiddles with the keys a little before finding his place, “You should know this one, if you don’t I am disappointed with you” he teases.

I know it within the first few seconds. Marco’s fingers dance along the keys, playing from one of my favorite albums. He’s chosen Dust Bowl Dance from the Sigh No More album. And it’s beautiful, every movement is smooth and every note rings through the stillness of the room. His face is surprisingly calm, he’s in his element. This comes easily to him, and it’s obvious the way his fingertips brush so gently against the ivory. When he’s finished, his eyes find my face, searching for a reaction.

All I can do is grin down at him. I want to hear more, and maybe it’s because I haven’t heard any music other than my off-pitch singing during showers, but Marco is truly talented.

He scoots over on the bench, patting the seat next to him. “You know it right?”

I take the empty place, fingers brushing against the keys as I sit next to him. “Of course, you knew I would know from my Mumford and Sons shirt. How much of their music do you know?”

“Just a couple of songs, I remember learning to play Little Lion Man, but I’m not sure if I can remember all of it, and I only made it halfway through Hopeless Wanderer.”

“Hopeless Wanderer is good, but Little Lion Man was ruined for me with it constantly being played over and over again” I huff, poking at a couple of the keys near the end, trying to get the Jaws theme going.

“What was the song that made you like them so much?” He asks curiously, playing a few random notes to disrupt my awful rendition of John Williams.

“White Blank Page,” I say without having to think for a moment. “I heard it once on the radio and had it on repeat for days.

“I don’t know that one, but if you can get me the sheet music I can learn how to play it” he offers.

“I’ll see what I can do. What’s your favorite song to play on here?” I ask.

He ponders the question for a moment, eyes falling onto the keys. “It would probably have to be To Build a Home by Cinematic Orchestra.”

“Can I hear it then?”

We lose track of time sitting up in that room. Marco plays his favorites for me, and even teaches me how to play Mary Had a Little Lamb. It takes a couple tries, but I eventually get it after many correction and furious blushes as he fixes the way I hold my hands. I’m still awkward with physical contact, but I’m growing more comfortable with it. Marco is gentle and careful with is movements, noticing when I tense and helping when I relax.

It’s towards the end of the evening when Marco catches me off guard.

I’m trying out Twinkle Twinkle Little star as he watches me keenly, expression soft and the same smile that’s been on his face for hours.

“Jean, why did you want me to fly so badly?”

My fingers stutter on the keys as I lift my face to meet him. “What?”

“Why were you so determined to get me over my fear?” He reiterates.

I let my hands fall to my lap as I consider the question. “I…because I know what it feels like to be scared of things other people aren’t” I murmur.

“Are you afraid of them now?” He questions delicately.

“Sometimes. Some not so much, some more than others. I just…I had to learn to get over them on my own, and it, uh, wasn’t too fun. And if I’m gonna be your friend, I want to help with something so you don’t have to go at it alone.” I feel myself shrink under his gaze. We are scarily close to talking about me, and I’m not quite up for that yet.

“You don’t have to go at it alone either,” he says quietly.

I give him a weak smile of affirmation as he scoots over to press his side against mine. It’s okay now, things are alright. I don’t have to worry in this moment of making things uncomfortable and weird. “It’s quite the challenge, you sure you're up for it?”

“Positive” he hums.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! This will be my first ever multi-fanfic, so bear with me. I'm always open for comments and critiques; you can find me on tumblr: http://howlscastl3.tumblr.com/ and I'll track the tag fic: TofN  
> Thanks, and enjoy!
> 
> 8Track for this fic: http://8tracks.com/princessmarco/time-of-night


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